


Mandatory Service

by HedgehogSquadGoals



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Because Come On You Guys He's Too Cute, Bill/Ford, BillDip, Blood, But Also Triangle Bill, But Also a Minor Amount Of, Except In Very Small Parts of the Story, He's a Demon What Did You Expect, Human Bill Cipher, I Also Listen To AM Radio, I Removed The Main Bill/Ford Tag Because It's Really Not Applicable, I Wrote Bill's Voice In MOSTLY CAPS and I WILL NOT APOLOGIZE, Lots of Arcane Ritual Stuff, M/M, Other Assorted Canon Characters - Freeform, Ritual Sex, Smut, Sorry I Keep Changing Tags I'm Just Trying to Fit In, Switches Back And Forth Between Serious and Funny and Surreal, Weird Plot Shit, Weird Stuff Happens Around Bill
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-20
Updated: 2017-02-05
Packaged: 2018-06-03 12:30:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 63,664
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6610780
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HedgehogSquadGoals/pseuds/HedgehogSquadGoals
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Pines are back in Gravity Falls, but so is Bill Cipher, who insists that he and Dipper must work together for their mutual benefit. Dipper has understandable trust issues. But this time, not heeding Bill's warnings proves to be a big mistake.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Don't Touch This Thing

"Should we put a sign up? Like a sign that says 'Don't Touch Statue's Hand'. Something like that. Should we do that?"

Dipper stood in the clearing, hand to his chin as he regarded the mossy statue with scrutiny. Mabel shrugged beside him.

"That would probably make people want to touch it even more. I mean, if I saw a sign that was like 'Don't touch this thing', I would _totally_ touch the thing!" she grinned at her brother, who rolled his eyes, "besides, we don't even know if anything would happen from touching his hand. Right? He's dead."

"Demons can't die, Mabel," Dipper sighed, "we've talked about this."

"And you know that for sure, how….?"

"All the research I've done into the subject says so. They can be dispelled, but it's only temporary."

"You do this every year. Come out to this spot and grumble about demons and spells and the temporary nature of human life. It's a real downer, bro-bro," Mabel said earnestly before blowing a strand of hair out of her eyes.

"I'm trying to make sure we don't have another Weirdmageddon, Mabel! And that no one else has to go through what we did. So...that's a no to the sign?"

"No to the sign," she nodded, beginning to wander away, "come on, Dip Dop, I'm bored. You've been staring at that old thing for like thirty minutes! You know I have a five minute attention span. Max. I've already gone above and beyond!"

"Yeah yeah," Dipper waved his hand dismissively, "go on back, I'll meet up with you soon." He heard her give a theatrical groan, followed by her exiting footsteps. Still he regarded the statue.

Every time they visited Gravity Falls since that faithful summer, Dipper had gone to the statue. He felt some bizarre sense of duty over it; not to protect it from harm, of course not. The very opposite. He'd been trying to destroy the thing for years.

The first year he grabbed ahold of the spindly arm (making sure to stay very far away from the hand) and wrenched with all his might downward, trying to snap the limb off. But although the arm was stick-thin, it would not budge. He kicked its bulging eye as hard as he could, resulting in two broken toes. He pelted rocks at it. All it did was scare away nearby birds.

The second year, he procured an ax from Manly Dan Corduroy. Dipper had never been particularly strong but he figured an ax would at least chip the stone, right? He had to shamefully return the ax to Manly Dan, making excuses as to why the once razor-sharp edge was cracked and dulled and the wood handle splintered. Not a single mark on the damn statue.

The third year, he'd tried a chainsaw and damn near killed himself with it when he tripped on a tree root. Now he was going on 17 and the statue was the same as it had always been. It almost felt like it was mocking him, like HE was mocking him...but the single, wide eye always seemed more alarmed than smug. No one else shared in his obsession. Not even Grunkle Ford.

"Don't worry, Dipper," he'd reassured the boy, "I've done numerous studies on the statue. It's just that; a statue. Bill is gone..." he had trailed off, his voice a mix of determination and maybe, Dipper thought, sadness, "chances are he will reform, he was a demon, after all. But that will take him hundreds of years. Most likely thousands. We'll be long dead by then and there's not much we can do about it now."

Dipper had begrudgingly agreed. Ford had a point, and Dipper respected the man too greatly to outright dismiss it. Still, there was the sense in him that the statue had to go. It was the only physical link left of Bill Cipher to the world he had tried to destroy.

A cool breeze picked up. The trees groaned, and Dipper thought he heard voices on the wind.

"Wind Whisperers again," he muttered, shoving his hands in his pockets and plodding off out of the clearing. The wind chuckled faintly. The hair on his arms prickled.

* * *

 

That night, Stan and Ford spread photos of their adventures for the past year over the kitchen table for Dipper and Mabel to peruse.

"Who is that?" Mabel gasped, pointing to a photo of a statue, gold and shaped like a woman, "she's beautifuuulll..."

"Ah, that would be a Inanna," Ford nodded toward the photo, "Sumerian goddess of love. We found that statue on an island that resurfaces just once every five hundred years!"

"Had to leave it behind, though," Grunkle Stan grunted and knocked back his tumbler of whiskey, "damn thing was cursed. Our boat wouldn't move with the thing on board, no matter how hard we tried. Ford eventually insisted we put it back."

"Your Great Uncle Stanley thought he could hide it on board without me noticing," Ford rolled his eyes, "like I wouldn't notice that the boat still wasn't taking off."

"You found all this treasure?" Dipper asked, picking up a photo of a chest spilling over with gold and jewels.

"Deep underwater, in a shipwreck in the South Pacific!" Ford grinned excitedly, "beautiful vessel. Most likely belonging to Spanish merchants."

"Spanish government laid claim to the damn thing though, insisted it was one of their ships from like, two hundred years ago, and that the treasure belonged to them! Can you believe it?" Stan grunted with a scowl, "Also, not related, if you ever go to Spain, don't mention your lat name is Pines."

Dipper squinted his eyes up questioningly at Stan.

"Why-"

"WHOA!" Mabel interrupted, nearly knocking Dipper out of his chair as she lunged for another photo, "what is this?!"

The photo she held was of a bronze mask, its surface dappled green with age. Bizarre nodules erupted from its surface, and in its center was the visage of a screaming face. Two holes for eyes and another hole to signify a gaping mouth.

"We're still not quite sure about that one," Ford frowned, "I locked it up downstairs, just in case it might be dangerous. I plan to run tests on it this summer."

"But not before we spend some quality time with you knuckleheads, huh?" Stan grinned and caught Dipper in a headlock, rubbing his knuckles into the boy's scalp. Dipper laughed and swatted at his Grunkle's hand, Mabel's tittering and Ford's chuckling in his ears.

"Lake tomorrow?" Dipper asked when Stan finally let go of him.

"Lake tomorrow," Stan and Ford nodded in unison.

Mabel and Dipper grinned.

* * *

 

"Remember how much those two used to hate each other?" Dipper asked as he and Mabel brushed their teeth in the mirror.

"Oh yeah! Grunkle Ford was all 'You pushed me into a multiverse and stole my house!' And Grunkle Stan was all 'You abandoned me and got all weird!'"

"Yes, that is exactly what happened."

"Think this'll be our last summer in Gravity Falls?" Mabel asked, looking over at Dipper after they both spit out their toothpaste.

"Wha?"

"I mean...you know. College coming up...things'll be different..."

"We'll still have summer breaks, stupid. Don't worry about it," he elbowed her, "last time you did that, a demon took over the town."

Mabel grinned.

"It worked out okay, though. Right?"

* * *

 

Dipper knew he was dreaming.

He stood on the shoreline of what looked like an island. Water lapped at soaked smooth stones, tickling his bare feet. A jungle stood behind him, wild and thick. No wind, no animal noises. Silent.

His entire body went cold, numb, when he realized. Everything was gray. Despite the common myth that dreams were only in black and white, Dipper found that he always dreamed in color. Even his frequent nightmares were awash in color, gleaming yellows and blood reds and fiery, deal-making blues. The only time his dreams were without color was when…

"No," Dipper shook his head, wrapping his arms around himself, "no no _no no_. You're supposed to be dead! Gr...Grunkle Ford said you weren't coming back!"

"THAT OLD CODGER THINKS HE KNOWS EVERYTHING!" a familiar voice reverberated around him, making his heart nearly stop in his chest. He whipped around, searching desperately, not wanting to be caught off guard again.

"Where are you?! Come out! Face...face me like a man!"

"A-HAHAHAHAHAH!" the voice cackled, the sound drumming into Dipper's bones, "I'M NOT A MAN, KID! HAS IT BEEN SO LONG THAT YOU'VE FORGOTTEN? BUT YOU..." Blue fire erupted in front of him, and as it dissipated, the familiar yellow shape was before him. "You've SPROUTED, Pine Tree!"

"What...what's your angle here, Bill?" Dipper asked, trying to hide the fear in his voice. Bill's eye gleamed in amusement.

"Is that some kind of TERRIBLE PUN? BECAUSE IT'S TERRIBLE! DON'T USE IT AGAIN or I'll have to DISASSEMBLE your body into bloody, MARSHMALLOW-SIZED BITS and EAT THEM in my CEREAL! JUST KIDDING! OR AM I?" Bill floated around him, appraising him with that one, searching eye.

Dipper watched him closely. He was...smaller than Dipper remembered. Only the size of his hand. Not only that, but his usual golden gleam seemed now to be a dull yellow, barely pulsing when he talked. And even his voice, as loud and annoying as ever, didn't seem to echo with the same intensity as Dipper remembered.

"You can't disassemble anything. You're in the Mindscape. You're in my dream."

"YEAH AND IT'S PRETTY FUCKING BORING," Bill swept his cane to indicate the visage of an admittedly rather stereotypical deserted island, "STILL NOT MUCH OF AN IMAGINATION AFTER ALL THESE YEARS."

"I thought you were dead," Dipper said, his fear turning into rage, disappointment at himself, at Ford, for being so wrong,"it was supposed to be thousands of years before you reformed."

"SIXER told you that, RIGHT? He's WRONG about LOTS OF THINGS!"

"Like being your friend?"

"EXACTLY like that!" Bill laughed his usual annoying laugh, but it trailed off softly in a way Dipper had never heard from him before. The demon closed his eye and sighed, leaning against his cane. Suddenly, a surge of hope cut through Dipper's panic as he realized...

"You're weak," he said, and Bill's eye shot open again, its pupil a thin slit, "you're not at your full power. Not at all."

"Kid, you've never SEEN ME at my FULL POWER," he retorted, his eye flaring black.

"Bullshit. I saw you at your full power and still managed to kick your ass."

 **"YOU DIDN'T KICK ANYTHING!"** Dipper gasped and fell back as Bill grew, his body burning red and engulfed in flame, until he towered over the boy, his voice growing deep and gravelly and pounding like a drum through Dipper's very being, " **I WAS TRICKED BY THOSE TWO DECREPIT SACKS OF SKIN YOU CALL FAMILY! YOU SHOULD BE DEAD! YOU SHOULD ALL BE DEAD!** " He towered and burned over Dipper for another few seconds, before popping back to his former size. Even through his fear, Dipper saw that Bill's eye drooped. "Haha, lots of FUN, that whole thing," the demon sighed, "But it was a DIRTY TRICK and did end in my molecules being SCATTERED ACROSS SPACE! DON'T THINK I'VE FORGOTTEN! I FORGET NOTHING! Not even the movie DREAMCATCHER! It was SO HORRIBLE! That's the PRICE YOU PAY for OMNIPOTENCE, AM I RIGHT?"

"If your molecules were scattered across space, how are you back?" the boy cautiously stood and dusted himself off.

"The MINUTE your Uncle's MEMORIES CAME BACK, I was able to start PULLING MYSELF TOGETHER. BLAME THE OLD MAN! Or better yet, BLAME YOU AND YOUR SISTER! I'D PROBABLY STILL BE STARDUST IF YOU HAD LEFT HIM AN AMNESIAC! A-AHAHAHAHA! LIFE is SO FUNNY, ISN'T IT?"

"But still! So quickly? You shouldn't have been able to reform so qui-" A tiny black hand against his lips stopped him from speaking any further. Bill's fingers were as cold as ice.

"BELIEVE IT OR NOT, that's what I brought you here to talk about."

"...what."

He stared suspiciously at the triangle, whose hands now rested on the top of his cane, eye staring almost earnestly up at him.

"OKAY, SO...in all HONESTY, I shouldn't have been ABLE to reform SO QUICKLY. I am FANTASTIC, but not quite so FANTASTIC as to TRANSCEND THE NATURAL ORDER OF THE UNIVERSE!" Bill's yellow form flashed briefly into an image of deep space, dotted with galaxies. He pointed the tip of his cane at Dipper, "SOMETHING'S GOING DOWN, KID, AND IT'S NOT MY DOING."

"You're saying something's pulling you back together quicker than natural?"

"WOW, YOU GOT IT!" Bill exclaimed sarcastically, "WANT A PRIZE? How about a HEAD THAT'S ALWAYS-….WAIT, I already GAVE YOU one of those once, HUH? Feels like it's been FOREVER. MEMORY kind of gets all LOOPY when two BRATS and their SENILE OLD UNCLES DISSOLVE YOUR VERY BEING!"

"You tried to kill us!"

"YEAH, because you were being DIFFICULT! I never REALLY wanted to KILL YOU, I LIKE you and Shooting Star TOO MUCH to WANT THAT! BUT IF THE DOG KEEPS BITING, YOU GOTTA PUT IT DOWN, RIGHT?"

"Oh my god. Okay. Just tell me what you wanted to talk about so we can end this conversation. What could possibly have pulled you together so quickly? Is it something in Gravity Falls? Because I'm going to find it and destroy it."

"TOO LATE, KID, I'M ALREADY BACK! Just not quite as POWERFUL," Bill twirled his cane nonchalantly, "AND I HAVE NO IDEA. Part of my being weaker means I'm not quite as...OMNIPOTENT as before."

"Sucks to be you," Dipper scowled, "Why the hell did you want to tell me anything of this? I don't get what you want out of it."

"Whatever is causing this possesses CONSIDERABLE ARCANE POWER, and it's coming from THIS TOWN! It's something that you fleshbags should be KIND OF WORRIED ABOUT!"

"You can't be serious," Dipper scowled, jabbing at the tiny triangular form with one outstretched finger. Bill recoiled slightly, looking more offended that should be possible for a triangle with one eye, "You can't possibly think that I'd be so stupid as to believe you're doing this because you're worried about humans!"

"YEESH, kid!" Bill swatted Dipper's finger away with a deft, and surprisingly painful, smack of his cane, ignoring Dipper's tiny cry, "AS A MATTER OF FACT, I DO THINK YOU'RE THAT STUPID! But NO, THAT'S NOT WHY I'm doing this! WHATEVER this is, it's BAD NEWS for me too!"

"How in the world could it be bad news for you when it's reassembling you?" Dipper asked, sucking on his finger. Bill was uncharacteristically quiet for a moment, studying the ground intently.

"FINE, kid, I'll lay all my CARDS OUT ON THE TABLE," he finally answered, reclining in midair with his hands behind what Dipper assumed could be called his head, "just to show you how SERIOUS this is. SOMEONE or maybe even SOMETHING has been SUMMONING ME for YEARS. OVER AND OVER AGAIN. DAILY, probably."

"But you can't be summoned if you're not whole..." Dipper trailed off uncertainly.

"YOU GOT IT, TOOTS," Bill answered gleefully and Dipper reeled at the name, "ALL THIS CONSTANT SUMMONING, ALL THE POWER THAT'S BEING PUT INTO IT, HAS BEEN PULLING ME BACK TOGETHER about a MILLION TIMES faster than what's NORMAL. But what is NORMAL anyway, RIGHT? HAHAHA! ANYWAY," he continued, noting Dipper's impatient expression, "I'm still not STRONG enough yet to appear anywhere but HERE."

"The Mindscape."

"YOUR Mindscape," he corrected, tapping Dipper on the head with his cane and apparently relishing in the boy's flinch, "I'M LIMITED TO THE SCAPES I'VE SPENT THE MOST TIME IN, and then only within the BORDERS OF THIS TOWN. SO. That narrows it down to YOU AND FORDSY, and only as LONG AS YOU'RE IN GRAVITY FALLS. And SOMETHING TOLD ME your Uncle wouldn't be quite as OPEN-MINDED as you!"

"You mean you think I'm stupider than him," Dipper spat. Bill looked a little surprised.

"YOU GOT IT ALL WRONG, KID. SIXER and I have kind of a...STORIED PAST. If I POPPED INTO HIS DREAMS, he'd probably PUNCH HIMSELF in the DICK to wake up so he wouldn't have to TALK TO ME. Then he'd spend the next THREE WEEKS without sleep, trying to figure out how to GET RID OF ME again. But YOU'RE different, Pine Tree! You'll LISTEN! You won't let our hilarious PAST keep you from potentially SAVING the FUTURE. That's what I LIKE about you, kid!"

"I haven't, and won't, agree to anything. Besides, it still doesn't make sense. You'll eventually be strong enough to be summoned. Isn't that what you want? Access into our world again? Create another Weirdmageddon? Turn more people into armchairs?"

"HAHA, I NEVER REPEAT THE SAME ACT TWICE, PINE TREE! No, your world would have something ENTIRELY DIFFERENT and probably MORE TERRIBLE in store for it! If that's WHAT I WAS GONNA DO! BUT! IT'S NOT!"

"Get to the point, Bill." Bill shot a momentary glare at Dipper before letting it go and chuckling again.

"YOU'VE REALLY GROWN, KID. LISTEN, I don't know WHO IS SUMMONING ME, but I CAN SENSE there's GREAT POWER BEHIND IT and...GREAT KNOWLEDGE. A BINDING CIRCLE has already been PREPARED."

"A binding circle?"

"Like the ZODIAC you and your buddies FAILED SO HILARIOUSLY at ACTIVATING. THE RIGHT KIND OF BINDING CIRCLE COULD TRAP ME, MAKE ME DO WHATEVER THE BINDER WANTED."

"Sounds like a win for the human race," the boy crossed his arms and Bill sighed, his voice gaining an irate edge.

"YOU STILL DON'T UNDERSTAND, DO YOU KID? NO ONE summons an ALL-POWERFUL, EONS-OLD DEMON just to keep it locked in a TRUNK OR SOMETHING. THEY SUMMON IT because they WANT SOMETHING. SOMETHING BIG. EVEN IF THEY STARTED OUT WITH THE BEST INTENTIONS...WELL, YOU HUMANS CAN'T RESIST A LITTLE POWER, CAN YOU?"

"I can't believe you think we're still simple and weak, after everything you've seen us do," he glared at the triangle, who seemed unphased, "what exactly do you want me to do about all this? Are you so desperate that you had to call on your arch nemesis for help?"

"ARCH NEMESIS!" Bill barked a laugh, and Dipper couldn't help but feel a little embarrassed, "Don't FLATTER YOURSELF, kid! I've MADE and CRUSHED more POWERFUL ENEMIES than YOU since BEFORE YOUR PLANET was EVEN BORN!"

"But now you're depending on me."

"TRUE," the demon admitted, and it took the boy back a little, "You like SOLVING MYSTERIES, right? It's kind of YOUR THING. Find out WHO or WHAT is doing this. MAKE THEM STOP. DESTROY the BINDING CIRCLE. I'll REGENERATE slower, but at least I won't be a PUPPET. And you won't have to worry about ANYONE using my ARCANE POWER for NEFARIOUS PURPOSES. I won't even VISIT YOUR DREAMS anymore! WELL...maybe just ONCE IN A WHILE, HUH? FOR OLD TIME'S SAKE!"

"You want me to destroy something that could finally keep you in line?" Dipper asked, dumbfounded.

"YEAH KID, THAT'S WHAT I'VE BEEN TRYING TO-"

"I'm not falling for your tricks, Bill!" Dipper shouted over the demon, his blood boiling with fear and rage, "and I'm not helping you! You deserve to be bound and controlled. Actually, you deserve worse than that, but if this is all we get, I'll fucking take it." Dipper had been bracing himself for Bill to explode in a fiery rage, balloon into a huge monster, glare with hatred down at Dipper with one furious eye gone tar black.

But Bill simply floated in front of him, unreadable and silent. The two stared at each other for a long while. Dipper was feeling more than a little uncomfortable, which he guessed was what Bill was trying to accomplish.

Just when Dipper was finally about to speak, Bill broke the agonizing silence, his voice unusually soft.

"I'll be back tomorrow night, kid."

His form shimmered, distorted, and then disappeared, leaving Dipper standing alone on the dull, gray beach.


	2. Waking Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dipper realizes he's probably made a mistake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for your kudos and comments so far! I love this community and I am ecstatic to be able to contribute! Stay tuned for more mystery, Ford continuing to bring bad mojo home, and Bill's CONSTANT YELLING!

Grunkle Ford was so _happy_.

He'd come a long way from the sour, stoic man that had stepped out of the dimensional portal all those years ago. Dipper knew Ford was still haunted by his past; who wasn't? But reuniting with his family, reforging his relationship with his brother, had smoothed the edges of the otherwise prickly personality he had once possessed.

And, as sappy and stupid as it was, Dipper didn't want to ruin that by telling him about the visitations he'd been having all week. Bill had caused them all some sort of lasting trauma, and, Dipper suspected, none more than Ford, who had been the only one among them who had once called the demon 'friend'.

Part of him wondered, and definitely wished, if all these nighttime visions hadn't just been extremely detailed nightmares. He'd certainly had nightmares about Bill before. But he remembered the gray, remembered Bill's almost gratingly long expositions, remembered it all, even upon waking.

He had to accept that it had happened...but that didn't mean he had to tell anyone.

"Dipper," Mabel elbowed him a bit too enthusiastically in the stomach, simultaneously snapping him out of his reverie and knocking the wind out of him, "what's wrong with you? You've been so quiet lately! Even the other day when you caught that tiny adorable lake monster, you barely even gloated!"

"That wasn't a lake monster, Mabel. That was an axolotl. The only mystery there is why there's once this far north."

"I named him Gregory Frill-face," she nodded proudly at the little creature swimming in the small aquarium against the wall, "seriously, bro, you can tell me what's wrong."

"Nothing, really. Just...I dunno. Tired?"

Well, the tired part wasn't _technically_ a lie.

"Get some sleep, bro-bro. Tomorrow we're going to help Soos build a kappa using a taxidermy turtle and a bucket! And duct tape! So much duct tape!"

Dipper watched her tromp off before frowning down at his bed. He'd debated chugging energy drinks and coffee all day, maybe even asking Mabel to make some of her (now patented) Mabel Juice...but history had taught him that he would have to fall asleep at some point anyway, and with Mabel Juice there was always the hazard of hallucinating and/or choking on plastic dinosaurs.

And admittedly, part of him was...curious. He didn't believe Bill's warning for a second, of course, but if the demon was right about a binding circle...he'd been mulling this over for a while. Maybe he could find whoever was summoning Bill, help them bind him. Destroy him.

Or, if Bill was lying about the whole thing, maybe he could figure out how to make a circle himself. He'd studied arcane symbology, among other things, for four years. He figured he had a pretty good jumping off point.

Now perhaps would be the time to make the Trickster into the Tricked. That's how they'd managed to defeat Bill all the times in the past, after all.

Dipper closed his eyes, and hoped for good dreams that he knew wouldn't come.

* * *

"I mean, YOU KNOW, it's becoming a LITTLE URGENT," Bill growled in frustration, circling Dipper in the Mindscape.

This time Dipper's dream had manifested into a comfortable sitting room. Dipper didn't quite know if that was his doing or Bill's, but he had to admit, it was pretty cozy. A gray fire cast white light on a dark rug, warming Dipper's feet as he paced in front of the fireplace.

"How urgent are we talking?"

"I'm growing STRONGER EVERY DAY, KID. Which normally WOULD BE GREAT. BUT IN THIS CASE, it's just gonna lead to my CAPTURE and your EVENTUAL DOOM. SO, NOT SO great."

Dipper did notice a difference. Bill's gleam had become brighter since the first night, his voice echoing with more intensity.

"Explain this whole binding thing to me."

"COME ON, KID, I thought YOU KNEW this stuff," Bill rubbed his eye in annoyance, "do I have to EXPLAIN every LITTLE THING to you?"

"Only if you want my help," he answered smugly. That earned him a one-eyed glare, but Bill floated in front of the fire and contemplated it for a moment.

"Okay, so, TO BE HONEST, I'm not EXACTLY SURE what kind of RITUAL THEY'RE USING. My POWERS aren't what they USED TO BE since you, YOU KNOW, KILLED ME."

"Not so full of yourself anymore, huh?' Dipper asked, aware that he was blatantly gloating but too smug to stop himself. Bill still scared the shit out of him, but it was becoming more and more apparent that the demon was near powerless, desperate. And if he could get to him while he was bound...he could nip this problem in the bud before it grew any larger.

"YOU KNOW, you've become QUITE THE SNARKY _ASS_ , PINE TREE," Bill snapped, floating up to Dipper's eye level, "it'd be CUTE if this wasn't SO SERIOUS."

"I'm not cute," Dipper fired back defensively, "and this really only sounds serious for you. I mean...once you're summoned and bound, can you be killed? For good, I mean? Is that why you're so afraid?"

Dipper was suddenly aware he had asked those questions much too enthusiastically. Bill narrowed his eye at him.

"I'm not an IDIOT, kid, I KNOW WHAT YOU'RE UP TO even WITHOUT SEEING INTO YOUR MIND. You really think I'd TELL YOU about all this if I could be KILLED for good?"

"Fine, then tell me, how would this binding circle control you? How does this mysterious person or thing or whatever hope to control an ancient space demon?"

"I wouldn't NECESSARILY be CONTROLLED PHYSICALLY," Bill sighed, "I'd be RENDERED INERT and they'd be ABLE TO ACCESS MY POWER. Which is, I ADMIT, negligible at THE MOMENT. But EVENTUALLY it'll GROW BACK to its normal BRAIN-SHATTERING, ANEURYSM-INDUCING MAGNIFICENCE, and whoever this is WILL BE A FORCE TO BE RECKONED WITH."

"And if you're right about whoever this is wanting to destroy the world...even if you're under their control, isn't that something you'd jump at?"

"DESTROYING THE WORLD on SOMEONE ELSE'S TERMS?" Bill chuckled and crossed his spindly arms, "I DON'T THINK SO, KID."

Dipper had a thousand more questions, but Bill was already agitated. The entity was certainly chatty, but he seemed to dislike having to disclose so much information all at once, and Dipper wondered, for the sake of a good night's sleep, if it might be better not to annoy him too much.

"Any idea where to start?" Dipper asked cautiously, and Bill immediately perked up, his eye gleaming and his body glowing slightly brighter.

"THOUGHT YOU'D NEVER ASK, KID!" he said giddily and snapped his fingers, pulling up a map of the town. He pointed to an area with the tip of his cane, "I'm FEELING THE PULL from SOMEWHERE IN THIS AREA, if I'M RIGHT. AND I USUALLY AM! Just DO WHAT YOU HAVE TO. DESTROY the BINDING CIRCLE. FIND OUT WHO'S DOING THIS, CUT OFF HIS GENITALS and MAKE HIM DEVOUR THEM! Or if it's a LADY, sweat and stammer AWKWARDLY because YOU'RE PATHETIC WITH WOMEN! A-HAHAHAHAHAHA! NO BUT SERIOUSLY, EVISCERATE HER THEN HANG HER WITH HER OWN INTESTINES."

Moments like this reminded Dipper of why he had been rightly terrified of Bill Cipher in the first place.

* * *

Dipper had decided to tell Mabel about the dreams, and about his plan to take down Bill before he became a bigger threat. He had trusted her with most of his secrets throughout his life and she'd proven herself to be dependable and back him up on numerous occasions. But, watching her as she paced back and forth in the clearing, he reckoned that telling her may have been a mistake.

As she paced, her hands switched between tugging on her sweater, her hair, her arms, even her face. Dipper couldn't help but feel guilty. After all, he and Ford hadn't been the only ones affected by Bill. The last time Mabel had been in Bill's grasp, he had literally been half a second away from murdering her. If not for Grunkle Stan...

"Why didn't you tell me before!" she groaned, her eyes avoiding the Bill statue that still sat placidly, and (to Dipper's chagrin) still intact in the clearing.

"I don't know, I just...I just didn't want to bother anybody! Everyone is so happy!"

"That's because they don't know that their arch-nemesis is back!"

"I called him my arch-nemesis and he laughed in my face," Dipper admitted sullenly. Mabel shook her head and kicked a rock at the statue.

"What a dick."

"You're telling me. But Mabel, this could be our opportunity to take him down for good. He'll be bound and vulnerable and we can punch him out of existence, just like Grunkle Stan did. But in the physical realm!"

"I _have_ always wanted to punch that smug little triangle out of existence," Mabel looked up with a determined expression, her fists clenched in subconscious preparation.

"And this could be our chance!" Dipper exclaimed, standing and brushing off his shorts, "I don't know about you, but I don't wanna just sit back and let Bill return to he can run amok unchecked."

"What about the ritual dudes though? If someone really is bringing him back-"

"He's lying, Mabel. Whoever is doing this probably just wants to bind him so he'll be stuck and won't be able to kill people or make them insane or replace their organs with eels or whatever. He's trying to use me to save himself, like I'd be stupid enough to believe him. So I say we find this person and help them. Then we won't have to worry Ford or Stan with any of this mess. Deal?"

They stood silently in the clearing together, both regarding Bill's statue, its hand still outstretched, seeming to reach desperately toward them.

Mabel looked at Dipper and nodded, grinning.

"Deal."

* * *

"The Gravity Falls History Museum? Bill said it'd be here?" Mabel asked, turning to look at Dipper. Dipper shrugged, shielding his eyes with his hand against the setting sun so he could see her.

"According to the map he showed me. I jotted it down from memory after I woke up," he unfurled the piece of scrap paper from his pocket and studied it, "unless I remembered wrong, this has got to be it."

"Well, this was where those Blind Eye freaks were holed up. I bet you a billion balls of kitten yarn that the binding circle is down in their old hideout."

"What's kitten yarn?"

"Yarn made from the shed fur of baby cats, Dipper!" she smiled and shook her head as if he was a simpleton as he rolled his eyes, "come on, smart guy!"

Getting into the museum was an almost pathetically easy task. No alarm system, no guards, all it took was Mabel and a hairpin to get them in. They made their way down the corridors to the Eye Room, into the secret passageway that led below the museum.

The whole place was dark and dusty, and Dipper struggled not to sneeze adorably.

"I don't know, bro-bro, this place looks like no one's been down here since...well, since we were," Mabel whispered, grasping onto her brother's arm for guidance as he led the way.

"Yeah, I...wait, hold on. There's a light up ahead. I think that was the ritual room, remember?"

They snuck in past the heavy tapestries, hiding behind a maze of long unused tubing that ran close to the wall.

The edges of the circular room were in darkness, but a chandelier in the center lit the scene below. Cloaked and hooded figures stood like pillars in a circle underneath. Between them, the twins could see something gleaming on the floor; a circle drawn in glutinous dark red. And in the center of that...glimpses of something smooth and pale that lay unmoving on the ground.

The figures had been chanting, they realized, so softly as to be practically unheard. But the chants were picking up in speed and tempo, a slow incline until their combined voices seemed as one, a loud, echoing hymn reverberating through the room.

A spider skittered up one of the tubes in front of them as if in a bid to escape the noise...but its movements began to slow, until it was seemingly frozen in place.

All color drained away. Dipper and Mabel looked uneasily at one another.

With a violent crackle of electricity arching from within the circle and a burst of blue fire, Bill appeared above the chanters. Dipper didn't know why, but he had expected the demon to look...afraid.

Instead, Bill looked _pissed._

His body was a burning blood red ember, his eye black and inky and screwed up in rage. Azure fire still blazed around him, so intense that it was nearly white at its center.

" **ENOUGH!** " he roared, his voice monstrous, as he flung his arms aside. It was obviously enough to shake the chanters, whose vocalizations tapered off uneasily.

"DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA WHO YOU'RE DEALING WITH?" Bill glared down at the figures, his pupil a murderous slit, "A BINDING CIRCLE? SUMMONING ME ONLY TO TRAP ME! OHO, YEAH, YOU BET I'M ON TO YOU! IF YOU DON'T WANT YOUR **MISERABLE LIVES** TO BECOME A CARNIVAL OF PURE NIGHTMARES, I SUGGEST-"

He was cut off by a deep, confident voice issuing from one of the chanters, rumbling some unknown and arcane spell Dipper had never heard before. Bill's body began twitching, distorting, and the demon screamed.

Dipper couldn't tell if it was with rage or with pain...or both.

Mabel made to move forward, but Dipper put a hand on her shoulder and held her back. She looked at him with wide eyes and he shook his head.

Bill seemed to be struggling to keep himself together. The formerly gray room flashed with the colors of his exertion, gold and red and blue. His pupil had retracted to a barely visible line of crimson, his bricks falling apart and reforming, his limbs disappearing and reappearing, sometimes in numbers greater than before. He shrieked in a garbled tongue, so loud and primal and _nameless_ that Dipper and Mabel winced at its unfamiliar timbre, slapping their hands to their ears. The colors became too bright, the demon's desperate and dissolving jerks too violent, and it wasn't long before they had to tightly close their eyes as well, burying their faces into each other's shoulders for some sort of protection and relief.

And then...silence.

Mabel was the first to look up, her eyes peeking above the top of her brother's hat. The world was back to normal. The spider on the tube near them began to crawl again and the room was saturated with its usual color.

"It is done," one of the chanters proclaimed confidently, "bring the daggers."

At that, Dipper lifted his head as well. The chanters disbanded their tight circle, and in their former center, the two teenagers could see a pale, naked body, spread-eagle in the center of the blood zodiac scrawled on the floor. They stared, then glanced at each other in confusion.

A chanter returned, carrying with him an open chest. Another gathered four sharp daggers from the chest...and wasted no time in plunging one into the figure's left hand, pinning it to the ground.

Mabel gasped and Dipper slapped a hand over her mouth, but her exclamation had been covered by a loud groan in a high voice. Dipper's blood ran cold.

Bill's voice.

The chanter continued around the body, pinning the other hand, then the feet, into the ground with the daggers. Its chest rose and fell quickly.

"You are bound, demon. There will be no more trickery. You are a thrall of humans now and will serve us as we see fit."

A weak, sardonic laugh escaped from the body, followed by a wet sounding cough. The chanters milled around uneasily, glancing at one another. The lead chanter continued.

"You'll be chained down here until you regain enough of your power for us to harness. And then, this world will be ours."

Dipper and Mabel stared at each other in horror.

_Bill had been telling the truth._

"You festering piles of bacteria wouldn't know how to rule the world if the world came up to you and said 'Nice to meetcha, I'm The World, here's how you rule me," Bill's weak voice spat from somewhere in the middle of the chanters.

There was a steely silence in the room after that statement, until one of the chanters muttered a spell that sent blue lightning through the air and shrieks from the body on the floor. Through the gathered figures, Dipper and Mabel could see the pale form writhing against the currents, stuck in place by the daggers.

Mabel stared at Dipper in wide-eyed terror, her expression obviously saying _'we have to do something'_. Dipper just shook his head in mute disbelief, his heart racing.

He was listening to someone being tortured.

But wasn't that what Bill had wanted to do to them? What he had done to Ford?

The chanter didn't let up, and soon others joined in, their combined voices drowned by the chaotic crackle of electricity and Bill's inhuman screams. The circle glowed, the chandelier's lightbulbs popped, long-dormant dust whipped up into an indoor cyclone and the screams were carried on its winds, shrill and haunting.

It wasn't long before Dipper realized Mabel wasn't beside him anymore.

Panicked, he searched for her among the room...then saw her right as she swept the head chanter's legs out from under him with a loose pipe.

The din and chaos immediately died down as the spells sputtered to a stop. Mabel stood above the prone chanter, chest heaving in anger and adrenaline, holding the pipe above him threateningly.

"Stop it!" she commanded.

Dipper sprang into action before he really knew what he was doing, sure that Mabel was about to be attacked herself. He joined her by her side, fecklessly grabbing anything that could be considered a weapon. In this case, a comically tiny letter opener.

"Stay...stay back!" he brandished the dull blade, "I'll stab all of you right in your faces!"

"Yeah!" Mabel screamed triumphantly, "right in your dumb _faces!_ "

All was still for a few moments as the twins held their weapons aloft, staring down the chanters, who presumably, under their hoods, stared back. And then, to the siblings' utter surprise, the hooded figures scrambled to the door, tearing and clawing at one another in a desperate bid to flee.

Dipper and Mabel were too stunned to comprehend what was happening, and before they knew it, the chanters had disappeared down the hall.

"Hey...hey, come back!" Mabel yelled after finally gathering her wits about her, "I'll go after them, you stay with him!" and with that, she sprinted after them, still brandishing the pipe wildly.

"Mabel!" Dipper yelled after her, making to follow, then hesitating as he heeded her words, "stay with…?"

He looked at the floor.

Oh.

_Him._

The body pinned by its hands and feet was that of a boy, probably even a year or two younger than Dipper himself. What skin wasn't marred by black, geometric tattoos was pale, dotted with blood and bits of char. The singed hair was golden blond and disheveled, the eyes closed and the mouth open slightly. He studied the figure for what seemed like a long while, his breath caught in his throat.

Was he…?

The chest moved with shallow breaths and the long, thick eyelashes fluttered ever so slightly.

Unconscious. But alive.

Dipper looked nervously at the daggers sticking from the boy's palms, his own hands ghosting over the hilt of the nearest like an erratic butterfly.

"Oh man," he muttered, "I don't know what to do, I don't know what to do!"

"I do," Mabel's voice came from the doorway. She sighed and dropped the pipe, "they were long gone by the time I made it upstairs. I don't know why they ran away from us. How is he…?"

"I don't know, Mabel," he responded slowly, hands still twitching uncertainly toward the dagger hilt, "he's breathing, but..."

"Is this Bill?" she asked, sitting beside him, her eyes never leaving the boy.

"I think so, yeah...this must have been what he meant by binding...that was definitely his voice...we should go get Grunkle Ford. He'll know what to do."

"Dipper! He's been crucified! We can't just leave him like this!"

"I mean, technically this isn't crucifixion, he's-"

"Oh my god, whatever! He's got freaking daggers pinning him to the ground and he's losing a lot of blood. We have to at least unstick him and patch him up."

"...do we, though…? I mean, he is a demon who tried to kill us..."

"Dipper...if we leave him like this, we're no better than he is."

"Well actually, I think we are, because we never _actively tried_ to torture and murder him."

"Dipper!"

"Fine! Okay! Jeez...I don't...uh..." he wiggled his fingers at the dagger hilt, nervously reaching toward it. Mabel rolled her eyes and grabbed the hilt, pulling the dagger out with a grunt. Blood spurted from the boy's hand and began gathering in a crimson pool in his palm. Mable then used the dagger to cut strips of fabric from the bottom of her skirt, thrusting the fabric into Dipper's hands.

"Here, wrap up his wounds after I take out the daggers."

Dipper groaned and took the clammy hand, tightly wrapping it with the floral-patterned fabric to stem the blood flow. They moved from limb to limb until all the daggers were out and all the wounds were wrapped. Blood stained the cloth, but it seemed to be slowing the flow well enough.

"Okay, now we go get Grunkle Ford."

"Dipper!" Mabel exclaimed again and Dipper rolled his eyes. He was really starting to dislike the way she said that, "we can't just leave him here. What if they come back for him? And he's naked and cold! ...really naked," she added, her eyes wide, as if just now realizing that the boy didn't actually have any clothes on.

"Mabel! Demon! Triangle! Tried to murder us and destroy the world! Remember?"

"Yeah, but what if it's not even Bill in this body anymore? You're gonna feel really bad leaving this poor naked guy here to die."

Dipper opened is mouth...then closed it again. She had a valid point. If whoever this was wasn't Bill...he'd be condemning them to death if he left him alone. Maybe something even worse.

"Okay...so...what do you suggest we do?"

"Let's get him somewhere safe….let's take him to Grenda's house. She and her family are out of town for two weeks and she asked me to watch her iguana, so I have a key."

"God...fine...let's find him something to wear and then get out of here."

They stole black pants, a crisp white shirt and suspenders off of a "Gravity Falls In The 1920s" display mannequin. Dipper refused to dress him, all the while his face a bright red, so Mabel, nearly rolling her eyes out of her skull, did the deed. Then the two stood, gently lifting the battered body with them and half carrying, half dragging it out of the room.

The slow walk to Grenda's house with a dead-weight body between them was not a pleasant one, but luckily she didn't live far from the museum. After getting in, they lay towels down on the floor to protect it from any bloodstains, then lay the body on top of it.

They regarded it with silence.

"Now we get Grunkle Ford," Dipper finally said, then nearly jumped into Mabel's arms as the boy breathed in sharply, a sudden and raspy sound.

"He's waking up, Dipper," she mumbled almost curiously and leaned in toward him.

The boy's eyes shot open.

Dipper immediately pushed Mabel back protectively, ignoring her sound of displeasure.

The body on the floor had one glowing yellow eye with a long pupil like a cat's. The other was a pure, fathomless black. The yellow eye stared at nothing for a moment, then roamed around the room until it settled on Dipper and Mabel. He parted his chapped lips, took a shuddering breath, and spoke in Bill Cipher's unmistakable voice.

"You really fucked up this time, Pine Tree."


	3. Duct Tape Superstar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dipper and Mabel have a hard time trying to control the newly fleshy Bill. Bill's ECHOEY, ALL-CAPS DEMON VOICE takes a backseat to something a little more human...for now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys have been so great with all your comments, I'm pretty much the happiest cinnamon roll in the world right now. I'm having a blast writing this, and it's really awesome to see people enjoying it so much! So thank you, sincerely! The more hopelessly entrenched I can become in this fandom, the better.

It wasn't any secret that Dipper took pills for anxiety. He'd been a nervous guy all his life, something that one particularly insane summer in Gravity Falls did nothing to stem. And as he had grown, so had his stress levels. Panic attacks weren't uncommon. Even more common were nightmares of a huge creature barreling after him, all glowing yellow limbs and salivating black tongues and furious, endless eyes.

He had been pretty content in blaming Bill Cipher as the root of all his issues, stress related or otherwise.

And now the literal cause of all his nightmares was sitting on the floor in front of him, picking at the dressings on his hands.

"What have you done?" Dipper asked, aghast.

Bill slowly turned his head toward Dipper, his eyes wide and unblinking. The movement was unnatural, strange.

"What have _I_ done? _You're_ the one that failed, Pine Tree. Horribly, I might add. After all the warnings I gave you..." he trailed off and went back to the task of inspecting his poorly bandaged hands.

"Don't mess with those, you'll make them worse," there was an undercurrent of sympathy in Mabel's voice and Dipper stared at her.

"Mabel! Now is _not_ the time to be all weirdly maternal!"

"Stigmata," Bill giggled and leaned over, now investigating the bandages on his otherwise bare feet, "hilarious! Me, of all the beings in the universe! Boy, now _that_ is irony!"

"You have some explaining to do, Bill," Dipper snapped, trying to keep the demon's attention. Bill laughed and one disconcerting yellow eye settled on the teenager.

" _I_ have some explaining to do! How about you, kid? Yeah, I know you were there. You could have stopped the ritual, but you sure knew best, didn't you? Thought they were doing it for the good of mankind, thought you could be rid of me. Punch me out of existence, right?"

"How did you..."

"Puh-lease," Bill rolled his eye, "you two losers were talking about it right in front of me."

"The statue!" Mabel gasped.

"You got it, sweetheart. That was pretty much the only place I could see into your waking world with my usual powers all kaput. Also," he shot a crazed grin at Dipper, who backed away instinctively, "everything you tried to do to that statue, I'm going to do to you."

"Leave him alone!" Mabel demanded, "And don't call me sweetheart! That's intrinsic sexism and demeans women."

"I like you," Bill nodded at her and tried to push himself to his feet before collapsing back onto the floor. Mabel gasped and almost rushed forward to help before Dipper put a hand to her shoulder to stop her.

"Mabel. Seriously, you've got to stop that. It's Bill, remember?"

"It's my natural reaction to help, Dipper! I'm just too nice!" she moaned, but stayed put.

A gleam caught Dipper's eye; an ornate saber was displayed above the fireplace; most likely a gift from Marius. He stood on his tiptoes and dislodged it from its brackets before pointing it toward Bill.

"All right, Bill. Start explaining. The binding...you didn't tell me they'd be binding you to a human body."

"What else did you think was gonna happen, kid?" Bill asked, seemingly have given up on trying to get to his feet. He rolled over on his back, his good eye staring at the ceiling, "thought they were gonna give me my own physical body? No one has that kind of power, except for me, and only then under certain circumstances. So they bound me to this puppet."

"But who are you?" Mabel asked, "I mean, who is the person you're in?"

"Don't know. Probably a member of the circle who did this ritual. A sacrifice. Mostly like a volunteer. Could even be a dead body. But it's all me now."

"But you're...he's...he's so young! Our age!" Dipper's voice faltered slightly, "who would volunteer to…."

"Oho, Pine Tree, you humans have been sacrificing yourselves 'for the cause' for thousands of years! Nothing new. And if in fact this body was chosen for this, it's precisely _because_ it's so young and...good-looking? Is it good-looking? I can never understood your weird human beauty standards."

He turned his head to look at Mabel questioningly. She pursed her lips and stared back, then looked at Dipper, who made a face and shook his head violently. She then looked back at Bill and sighed.

"I'm sorry, Dipper, but my hips don't lie. Yeah, it's mega good looking. Or, ooh, this is a good one! 'Possessed body? More like possessed hottie!' Am I right? Come on, guys, this is hilarious stuff."

Dipper groaned and slapped his free hand to his forehead, but Bill grinned appreciatively at Mabel.

"Well there you go. Magical rituals these days are pretty watered down. The older, more powerful ones usually involved at least one hot young virgin to be deflowered by every member of the ritual circle," he trailed off, then, ignoring Dipper and Mabel's horrified expressions, he added, "usually anally."

"Waaaat," Mabel said.

"Oh my god," Dipper said. Bill sat up again and shrugged.

"Hey, don't look at me. There's any number of ways to perform magic and summon demons, some freaks just like to get busy while doing it. You humans and your sick drive to procreate! It's hilarious. And disgusting."

"Mabel, do we have something we can use to tie Bill up?"

"I carry duct tape with me at all times. And I'm pretty sure Grenda has some handcuffs somewhere, but you probably don't wanna know why," Mabel shrugged. Dipper blanched and Bill frowned.

"You can't really be thinking tying me up! After what you nitwits just put me through!"

"What _we_ put you through! As far as I'm concerned, you deserve any hardship you get, Bill!"

"Yeah!" Mabel added, "besides, we scared away those chant-y guys and bandaged you up and brought you here! We've done more than we could have."

"And you think—wait, 'scared away the chant-y guys'? You got them to run?"

"Yeah?" Dipper asked, "why does that matter? We ran at them, to stop them from torturing you, by the way. They were probably just startled."

Bill stared at him as if he was looking at a particularly retarded amoeba.

"A bunch of guys who prepare a sacrifice and purposefully summon and capture a _demon_ aren't going to be startled by two kids popping out of the shadows at them. What a moron. Well! Anyway, that's interesting information. We might need that."

"What? We? Need for what?"

"As eloquent as ever, Pine Tree," Bill said snarkily, his tone of voice at odds with his appearance as he awkwardly tried to push himself up again, ending up in with his hands and feet on the floor and his back arched in the air as if in some bizarre yoga pose. His stance was reminiscent of a frightened cat and blood began seeping onto the floor from his aggravated wounds, "we're going to find out who those people were and get them to undo this. As in, you two are going to help me. It's really the least you could do."

"You have got to be-"

"You're making it worse!" Mabel snapped at Bill and gently pushed him back down into a sitting position. He looked surprised as she inspected one of his hands, "you two stay here and don't kill each other. We need to doctor these wounds up before he bleeds out. Dipper, yell if Bill tries to eat your face off."

She quickly bounded up the stairs and out of sight. The two watched her disappear for a moment, then looked at one another.

"I like your sister," Bill remarked, digging a finger into the wound on his right palm and giving an odd wince-grin at the sensation. Dipper scowled.

"That didn't stop you from almost killing her!"

"Relax, kid. It was all business, nothing personal! I mean, sure, okay, a little personal. I mean, I had to teach Sixer a lesson, didn't I? Besides, there are things soooo much worse than death. I think you're just jealous because I like her more than I like you."

"Why would I be jealous! I don't want you to like me!"

"Breaking my heart, kid," Bill smirked and made a heart shape over his chest by bringing together his bloody thumbs and forefingers.

Dipper was searching for a clever retort when Mabel came bounding down the stairs, first-aid kit in hand.

"Okay! Doctor Mabel's Clinic is open for business!"

Dipper made sure to hold the saber at Bill's neck as Mabel cleaned and disinfected his wounds, re-binding them tightly with copious amounts of gauze and bandaging.

"You really should go to a hospital for those," she said as she pulled off her disposable gloves, "but I don't think they take demons bound to sacrificial bodies."

"Funny story, they don't!" Bill flexed his fingers and toes, seeming delighted, but then a little disappointed that he couldn't prod at the lacerations any longer.

"Let's kill him."

Bill and Mabel looked up at Dipper. The teen stood resolutely, though the saber rattled slightly in his trembling hand.

"That'll solve all this, right? Killing this body will release you and you'll be back to your old self and too weak to cause any harm. We're...we're going to kill you, Bill."

"And ruin Shooting Star's excellent doctoring? What a waste!" Bill struggled to his feet, ignoring the sword tip Dipper kept pointed at him. With some difficulty and awkward swaying, Bill managed to stand. He approached Dipper, wincing slightly at every step.

He was smaller than Dipper, but had the sort of 'fox-with-rabies' expression that was instinctively intimidating.

"Well? Go ahead, Pine Tree. Kill me! According to your deductions, it'll solve aallll your problems. Go on!"

He grabbed hold of the saber's blade and stuck the tip against the left side of his chest, pressing himself forward enough for it to pierce his skin. Bright blood began blooming across the white cotton of his shirt. Dipper gaped and Bill stared at him unblinkingly, still grinning. Dipper trembled and finally lowered the weapon to his side.

"I can't."

"Of course you can't. Besides, there's a demon in this body now. It can't just be killed through normal means, especially not from a weak little land grub like you. And even if it did die, who knows what could happen!"

"I thought you knew everything."

"I never said that," he held up a bloody finger in correction, "I only said I knew lots of things. Which I do! But lots doesn't equal all, not by a long shot."

"Fine. Then we're taking you to Ford. He'll know what to do."

At that, what little color Bill's pale face had drained away. He raised his heavily bandaged hands in protest.

"I'm not sure that's a great idea. Sixer has a mild beef with me, don't know if you remember. If he got his freaky hands on me like this, he'd do worse than what those ritual holders were doing."

"Sounds like a Bill problem, not a Pines problem. Mabel?"

Suddenly Mabel sprang forward, a roll of duct tape unwound in her hands. Bill yelped as he saw her and dropped to his hands and feet, bolting away on all fours like an animal. Dipper and Mabel took off after him, Dipper brandishing the saber and Mabel struggling not to get the duct tape stuck in her hair or her sweater as she ran. Bill's movements were wonky; he was still getting used to this body and was weak from blood loss, but he still managed to make it to the kitchen before they cornered him against the cabinets.

Mabel eventually got the duct tape on him, and thanks to her ridiculously quick movements, it wasn't long before she had reducing him to a wriggling, haphazard silver cocoon.

"Shooting Star, come on! If you hand me over to Sixer, he'll just do the same thing those ritual guys were doing to me! Maybe even worse!"

"I thought pain was hilarious, Bill," Dipper said dryly, sliding the saber into his belt loops before helping Mabel drag Bill back out into the living room.

" _Human_ pain is hilarious! But those spells affect demons. It's a completely different type of pain. If you guys felt that, you'd probably drop dead of shock! Luckily I'm about a thousand times more resilient-"

"Not helping your case there, man."

"You called me man! That means we're bonding. We've bonded! Wowee! So what's say you let me go, huh? Pine Tree?"

"No, Bill."

"Let me go!" Bill yelled and thrashed, eventually kicking Mabel in the shin with his bound feet, "I'll feast on your—mnff!"

Mabel admired her handiwork after slapping a thick strip of tape over Bill's mouth.

"Good one, Mabel!" Dipper said, impressed. Mabel grinned and flipped her hair.

"I'm kind of a duct tape superstar."

They hefted Bill up between them and began to drag him out of the house, into the dark streets and toward the outskirts of town. Bill squirmed and tried to yell what was probably all manner of arcane and terrible curses at them.

Just as the flailing was becoming too much for them to deal with, it, along with the muffled yells, began to die down until it stopped all together. The body sagged between them, eyes fluttering closed.

"Passed out again," Dipper sighed, "thank god."

"He's not doing well, Dipper, he's hurt."

"Good. That'll make him easier to deal with. For now, we have to get him to Grunkle Ford. He'll know what to do..."

The journey back to the Shack was a long but mercifully peaceful one. Luckily, Bill was relatively light, but it wasn't an easy chore carrying dead weight, even between the two of them.

So when they finally got back home, they wasted no time and headed down to the basement, where they knew Ford usually spent his nights. Chronicling the town's weirdness was a habit that died hard, it seemed.

"Grunkle Ford!" Dipper yelled out, his voice reverberating off the metal walls, "are you down here? We've got kind of a situation!"

"Dipper? Mabel?" Ford appeared from around a corner, wiping his hands on an oilcloth, "what're you two doing down here? And what is...who is that?"

The teenagers lay Bill down in front of Ford.

"It's...it's kind of a long story!"

"Dipper," Ford's tone grew higher, harsher, and his eyes didn't leave the figure on the floor, "who is this."

"Well...I...for the past week...I'd been having these nightmares..."

Ford didn't wait to hear any more. He took a small flashlight from his belt, knelt down and lifted Bill's left eyelid up. The glowing eye stared sightlessly, its pupil a contracted slit.

"Bill," he growled, then turned his intense gaze back to the teens, "I need to know exactly what's been happening. Tell me everything."

By the time Dipper finished telling Ford what had transpired (with some unhelpful interjections like "It was crazy bonkers!" from Mabel), Bill's long eyelashes began to flutter and his breathing had upped in tempo.

"Interesting," Ford said to himself, hand to his chin as he watched Bill stir, "very interesting. Well, there's no way around it. We're going to have to keep him contained until we figure this whole mess out. Come with me, kids."

He hefted the groaning Bill up on his shoulder and led them to a small room in the back. He lay Bill on an ancient-looking wooden table with heavy iron manacles. Ford, very businesslike, set about undoing Bill's binds.

"Mabel sweetheart," he said as he balled up the duct tape and threw it over his shoulder, "would you go get some of Dipper's underwear? Clean. Please. If you can find any."

"Ewww why?"

"Whaaaat, why?" the twins moaned at the same time. A smirk played on Ford's face.

"Because we're going to have to undress Bill to get a better look at these markings and I'd rather he not be naked. Might get a little weird. Please, Mabel?"

Mabel groaned, but stomped away resentfully. Dipper watched his great uncle in silence for a moment before speaking.

"Is this bad, Grunkle Ford?" Dipper asked nervously as Ford's six-fingered hands deftly undid the buttons on Bill's shirt, "it's bad, isn't it?"

"Bad is relative, Dipper my boy," the old man answered.

"I...I mean, you don't seem as upset about this as I would have thought..."

"This isn't good, that's true. But we can make it into something good. We have Bill in a human form and he's weak. Practically powerless. We may be able to figure out how to be rid of him for good this time."

"And the chanters?"

"Hmm? Oh, yes yes. Those too," Ford waved absentmindedly.

Dipper frowned a little. He idolized Standford, but there was a very real possibility that the old man might ignore one threat to focus on Bill. He couldn't blame him; Bill had hurt all of them, but none so much as Ford. Still…

"Here's Dipper's boxers," Mabel walked back in, holding the piece of clothing between two pinched fingers, "I managed to find some clean ones. It was like a Christmas miracle! And they've got turtle patterns on them!"

"Hey, I wash my clothes! You know...sometimes. When it matters."

"Thank you, Mabel," Ford smiled appreciatively at her, "you're a trooper."

She beamed back, then quickly looked away as Ford finished undressing Bill. As he awkwardly shimmied Dipper's underwear onto the prone body, Bill muttered a half-awake and duct-tape-muffled sentence that sounded suspiciously like "S _ixer, you handsy rascal..._ "

Ford frowned and blushed furiously, but continued his task until the article of clothing properly covered him. The body Bill wore was a little too small for them and they sagged down onto his jutting hipbones. Ford then arranged Bill's arms and feet so he was in a spread eagle position, clasping the manacles around Bill's wrists before digging through a nearby trunk of books. He pulled out a particularly worn and dusty book with a triumphant "aha!". Flipping through the pages and muttering softly to himself, he seemed to finally land on the page he was looking for. Once sure of what he had, he began reciting a spell.

A wave of bright light washed over Bill and the manacles glowed red hot. The normally black tattoos on his body lit up in gold and his eyes shot open, the glow of the yellow eye so intense it was difficult to look at.

"MNFFFF!" he tried to scream against the duct tape still fastened against his mouth. He writhed against the bonds, body shuddering, arching violently.

Dipper watched, uncomfortable.

It seemed like Bill's body wasn't contorting so much in rage as it was in pain. Guilt stabbed at him suddenly as he remembered Bill's desperate pleas to keep him from Ford, but he tried to shake it off.

This was _Bill Cipher_ they were dealing with.

"That should do it," Ford shut the book, satisfied, and approached the table, looking down at Bill curiously. Bill breathed heavily through his nose, smoke curling from his body, his wide yellow eye trained on Ford.

"Can we go now?" Mabel's usually loud voice was soft and tinny. She looked down at the floor, hiding her face behind a curtain of long brown hair. Dipper felt another pang of guilt, this time for bringing Mabel into this whole fiasco. The summer had started off so well…

"I'll need one of you to stay and describe more in detail what you saw at the museum," Ford said, not looking at her. His eyes were still locked with Bill's, "and speaking of, we should probably go back there and investigate...but I don't want to leave him alone just yet..."

"I'll go!" Mabel shot her hand up. Dipper could tell the enthusiasm didn't stem from a want to actually go investigate, so much as a desperate need to get out of the room she was currently in.

"Good girl! Here, take this laser gun and this camera. And be careful."

"Don't worry, Grunkle Ford, they already ran away from me once," she smiled and shrugged, but she locked eyes with Dipper and he could see nothing but guilt and worry on her face. She looked at him for a long moment, then turned and walked out again.

"Dipper, do you think you can remember what the circle they had on the floor looked like?"

"Huh? Oh, yeah...I couldn't see it really well, but it was something like this?" he sketched what he remembered out onto a loose piece of paper. Ford studied it and nodded.

"Fascinating. I recognize some of these symbols...and it seems like the markings on that circle may have bonded to this body once Bill was contained within it. We need to document this. Dipper, do you mind taking pictures while I jot down some notes?"

"I uh...sure, Grunkle Ford..."

It felt wrong somehow, snapping photos of the prone, nearly-naked body laid out before him as his great uncle studiously scribbled down observations. It was Bill, yeah, but he had been relatively civil during all this, hadn't he?

_He was desperate, of course he was civil,_ Dipper told himself.

_If he had been as powerful as usual, he wouldn't have been nearly as...nice isn't the right word...agreeable?_

P I n E t R E E

Dipper's head snapped up at the unwelcome intrusion on his thoughts and, after a moment, he realized Bill's eye was staring at him, and it wasn't yellow any more. It was red with a burning white slash in its center and screwed up in anger. It was enough to startle Dipper into nearly dropping the camera.

"Hey!" Ford barked and this time it was Bill who was startled. He blinked and turned his wide, now normal eye to Ford in surprise and confusion, "don't you _dare_ look at him like that. This isn't anybody's fault but your own, Bill. You've had this coming for centuries. Hell, even longer than that, maybe eons. But, knowing you as well as I do, you're not going to hate yourself for this, are you? Have to find someone else to blame. Well, if you have to hate someone, hate me. Leave the boy out of the twisted revenge fantasies I'm sure you're having."

Bill gave a small noise that Dipper mistook for a sob at first, but then quickly realized it was a laugh. Bill was laughing under that duct tape.

His vicious eye didn't leave Ford.

But Ford was too old and too grizzled to be cowed. He glared right back.

"Thanks, Grunkle Ford..." Dipper mumbled, embarrassed, "but I can handle Bill. He doesn't scare me."

That was probably the most untrue thing Dipper had ever said in his life, and judging by Bill's and Ford's expressions, they knew it.

"You and your sister are brave, talented kids," Ford placed a hand on Dipper's shoulder, "always have been. But remember not to drop your guard. Bill may be weak and vulnerable right now, but we don't know the extent of what he can do in that body. This is uncharted territory, for Bill too, I'd imagine. Until we figure out what to do, and then even afterwards, maintain constant vigilance."

"I'll be more vigilant than ever," he nodded, trying to drum up a modicum of confidence.

"I'm back!" Mabel yelled from the entrance and Dipper squealed, jumping into Ford's arms. Ford held him and they looked at one another awkwardly. Bill snorted a laugh behind them.

"That uh...that wasn't very good vigilance, son," Ford commented. Dipper turned a bright shade of red and climbed out of his arms, pulling his hat over his eyes in embarrassment. Mabel walked in, looking tired and exasperated.

"You guys, there was nothing back at the museum. They must've come back and erased all the evidence. There wasn't anything...even Bill's blood and the dagger dealies were gone."

"Very thorough," Ford remarked, "I'm afraid finding these people may be more difficult than I thought..."

He put his hands on their shoulders and smiled wearily.

"You kids must be exhausted. It's been a long night for you both, and a hard week for you, Dipper. Why don't you go get some sleep?"

"What about you? Will this...this thing hold? Are you going to be able to sleep?"

"Don't worry, Dipper. For all my talk about constant vigilance, I'm fairly certain he can't get out of this one. This artifact," he patted the table and Bill tried to arch away from his hand, "is what's called a Desk of Gaap. There are only a handful of these around the world, from what my research says. They were made hundreds of years ago, specifically to restrain demons in human form. Fascinating, really! The table is made of Palo Santo, or what they call Holy Wood, and the restraints are blessed iron inlaid with silver. Those things alone would already considerably weaken a beast like Bill, but the whole thing is also carved with runes that I can activate by reading a spell from this book," he held up the dusty vellum tome from earlier.

Mabel's eyes were glazed over, but Dipper had already whipped out his pen and notebook and was scribbling down the information like mad.

"That's incredible! What do the runes do? Another containment mechanism?"

"Something like that. They're designed to keep him locked to the table even if the manacles were to be undone. They have the added advantage of sapping his strength and causing severe pain when activated properly."

At that, Dipper's enthusiasm waned. He bit the bottom of his lip and wrote, slowly and uncertainly, _'causes severe pain'._

"You kids go on. I'll study him for a little while longer, and then I'll get some sleep too. Ah, one more thing...don't tell anyone about this, okay?"

"Are you sure that's a good idea…?" Mabel asked nervously, "Grunkle Stan..."

"Don't worry, I'm going to tell Stan. We've learned our lesson about keeping things from one another...it only took us most of our lives. But I want to tell him myself, explain the situation to him. I don't trust him not to just come down here and beat Bill into a bloody pulp. Killing this body may not help our cause any. Heck, it may not even be possible. I'm going to have to run some tests myself to determine how much physical abuse this body can take, if it's possible for it to succumb to death. You two scamper now, okay? I'll see you in the morning."

They nodded and turned to walk out. But before he left, Dipper caught sight of Bill's panicked expression.

That guilt returned to leave a fresh gash in the pit of his stomach as Ford's words repeated in his head.

_'...how much physical abuse this body can take...'_

p L E a S e

Dipper shook the thoughts away with effort and followed his sister out.


	4. A Little Too Late

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Pines family tries to get used to their new situation. Bill may have one last trick up his sleeve.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so this chapter is rather short and pretty heavy-handed with the Bill/Ford stuff. But I SWEAR this is a BillDip fic!! I SWEAR TO YOU. Just, you know, plot has to happen a little bit first. Dipper has trust issues! Also, I couldn't sleep last night so I drew a picture of Bill inspired by this fic and posted it on Tumblr if you want to check it out. I ILLUSTRATED MY OWN FANFICTION YOU GUYS WHAT ARE YOU DOING TO ME. (Also I do not know how to hyperlink on AO3 so just copy paste if you're interested, I guess)
> 
> http://hedgehogsquadgoals.tumblr.com/post/143273160628/i-am-bill-cipher-trash-also-just-human-trash-in
> 
> As always, your comments are much appreciated! You are all beautiful snowflakes and I love all of you! Yes, even you, Chris!

“And now he’s got that goddamned _brain demon_ locked up in the basement?! My brother has made a lot of mistakes in his run, but this has got to be one of the worst!”

It had been three days since they’d dragged Bill home, and Grunkle Stan hadn’t taken the news well. He’d been on a seemingly endless tirade, ranting and complaining to anyone within earshot...that happened to be Dipper, Mabel and, on occasion, Ford, who got the full brunt of his anger.

He grunted as he tossed back his fourth cup of coffee for the morning. Dipper sipped from his own mug slowly, and Mabel was still firmly faceplanted into the kitchen table, her arm outstretched and a half-drunk glass of Mabel Juice clutched feebly in her hand.

Sleep hadn’t come easy to any them the past three days. Bill being back was enough to cause anyone to lose rest. But compounded with a dangerous secret society, Ford’s obsessive studies and the weird sense of guilt hanging over Dipper and Mabel...any sleep they got lasted a few hours at best and was not filled with bubblegum dreams of gumdrop forests.

The first night, Dipper hadn’t slept at all. He had lain awake in his bed, staring at the ceiling, until he finally gave up on sleep and went outside for some fresh air.

Just in time to save Gompers from being attack by a chupacabra. He’d have those scratches for a while.

The second night, he managed a couple of hours, but those couple of hours were plagued by nightmares. Bill had been hovering over him, seething, as thick blood poured from his eye and slid in gleaming rivulets down his body, pooling in the crevices between his bricks and dripping, hot and wet, onto Dipper.

“Y O U,” was all Bill had said before screaming and shattering into a million burning shards, catching on Dipper’s clothes and lighting him on fire, an instant inferno. Dipper had woken in a panic, tangled in his blankets and drenched with sweat.

At first he had wondered if Bill had snuck back into his dreams, was trying to punish him for what he had done. But eventually he realized the dream had been in color and Dipper was having trouble remembering details...

It had been a regular nightmare, not that that was much comfort to the sleep-deprived boy.

Ford had requested Mabel and Dipper leave the Shack when he sat down Stan to tell him about Bill. The twins had agreed solemnly and walked obediently out the door...only to sneak around out back and hide under the open window where they could hear every bit of the conversation.

There’d been a lot of yelling.

“After everything I went through, that smug little shit is still alive!?” Stan had screamed.

“I’ve explained this to you before, Stanley. Bill and his kind can’t die in the traditional human sense. They always come back in some form or another. Bill just came back sooner than I thought.”

“You said he’s in a human body? Let’s beat him out of it! Show me where the little creep is, Poindexter, you get the gun and I’ll get my brass knuckles.”

“Stanley!” Ford yelled, and there had been sounds of a small scuffle, “I’m not sure if destroying that body is a good idea. That may just make things worse. I need to run more tests before--”

“Tests! Always tests! We’ve got the _kids_ living in the same house with that monster! The kids, Standford! Don’t you remember what he was going to do to them?”

Dipper and Mabel had exchanged pained glances.

“Of course I do,” Ford’s voice was softer, “I can never forget. But that is precisely why we need to keep him in that body. Contained in a human vessel, he may be powerless. Under the right circumstances, we may be able to contain him for good. Forever. But those circumstances will take time to figure out.”

There had been some stony silence after that, and some muttering.

“I’m one hundred percent confident he won’t be able to escape. You can come down to the basement with me and I’ll show you, if you promise not to lay a hand on him.”

“...can I have just one punch?” Stan had asked gruffly.

“...one punch wouldn’t hurt. Come on.”

They were down in the basement for a little under thirty minutes before ascending back into the house. Stan seemed slightly pacified, if still on edge. But ever since that day, he’d been grumpier than usual, casting paranoid glances over his shoulder and acting more protective than ever of his great niece and nephew.

Ford hadn’t let the twins down into the basement, and neither Dipper nor Mabel could say that they were upset about that. Maybe it was because Bill had been telling the truth all along, maybe it was because he seemed so desperate, maybe it was solely because he _looked_ human now and his pain was so much more relatable...whatever it was, the whole situation was just too weird and uncomfortable.

Dipper didn’t know what kind of tests Ford was running downstairs, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to know. But, he kept telling himself, it was Bill, and he deserved whatever he got.

P I n e T r E E

Dipper’s head snapped up and he looked around.

"Anyone else hear that?” he mumbled nervously, but he already knew the answer.

“You’re just going crazy from lack of sleep,” Mabel muttered against the kitchen table.

“See what he’s done to us?” Stan growled, throwing his hands up in the air hopelessly, “driving us crazy!”

“Are you talking about Bill, or Grunkle Ford?” Dipper asked. Stan huffed and crossed his arms.

“Both, as far as I’m concerned.”

“It’s not his fault, Grunkle Stan. Why aren’t you mad at Bill? I mean, he is kind of the evil one here….”

“Oh, don’t you worry, I’ve got a special place in the pit of my hate-heart for that three-sided asshole.”

“What’s a hate-heart?” Mabel lifted her head curiously.

“It’s like, you know, when they say ‘a heart full of love’. Except the complete opposite of that. Hate-heart. Anyway, let’s try and forget about this for the day, huh? Guess who got us some tickets for mini golf!”

“Ooh! You did! Was it you? It was you, wasn’t it? Grunkle Stan!!” Mabel abandoned her chair and her juice and hugged her Grunkle tightly. Stan looked pleased with himself even as he teasingly tried to push Mabel away.

“You got me, kid, I just can’t help but spoil you, I guess. Okay...okay, ow, wow, you actually hug really hard. Oh god. Dipper...little help?”

Dipper tried not to laugh and went to wrench Mabel away from Stan.

* * *

 Ford paced back and forth beside the ancient wooden table, hands clasped behind his back.

“If you really want us to find this secret society, you’re going to have to give me more information than that, Cipher.”

Bill, still locked to the table by iron manacles and innumerable enchantments, frowned. Ford had only recently removed the duct tape from his mouth in order to get some answers from the demon, and his lips were red and chafed.

“I’ve given you everything I’ve got, Sixer. This isn’t exactly fun for me, y’know, I don’t have a reason to lie to you.”

“Yes you do,” Ford approached and glared down at him, “you always have a reason to lie. Because you’re a liar, Bill. A worthless, malicious liar, and you always have been.”

“Come on, Sixer,” Bill sighed, “you wanna insult me too? You’ve been at this for days, _torturing_ me. Bringing this body to the brink of death and then holding off because you’re just too scared to go all the way. You let your brother beat me up while I was laying here defenseless! Suddenly, I don’t sound like the bad guy, huh?”

“That won’t work on me, Bill. I don’t feel bad for you just because you _look_ human now. I know what you really are.”

He turned his back to the demon and leaned over his research desk. He tapped the tip of his pen thoughtfully against a page of notes when Bill’s voice purred behind him.

“You like it, though, don’t you, Fordsy?”

“Pardon me?” Ford cocked an eyebrow and looked over his shoulder.

The demon wore a smirk on his bruised lips, his eyes half lidded. The black eye was as dark and endless as always, but the yellow one glowed bright and mischievous in the dim room.

“Oho, come on, kid. This is what you always wanted, wasn’t it?” he smiled, showing his teeth, teeth that were gleaming like those of a predator, “Bill Cipher in the waking world. Bill Cipher in a human body. _‘Bill, I want you to be physical, I want to_ be _with you..._ ’”

“Don’t. You. Dare.” Ford turned to face him and growled dangerously despite the blush spreading on his worn cheeks.

“Sometimes dreams come true a little too late, don’t they?” that wicked smile never left Bill’s face, “or do they? It’s not too late. And look at me, all laid out...pretty little thing on a platter, all for you...”

Ford stormed up to the table, incensed, and grabbed Bill by his chin, hard enough to bruise. Bill just laughed obnoxiously, that twisted grin never faltering.

“You’ve really sunk low this time, Cipher. But you’re making a stupid mistake. You so much as say another word and I’ll read that incantation until my voice gives out or your head explodes. Whichever comes first.”

“I can make you come first.”

It was a stupid, crude joke, but something in the tone of Bill’s voice held him and refused to let go. He stared into Bill’s eyes, and it seemed that the right eye, the black one, swallowed him, enveloped him in its darkness....his grip on Bill’s chin relaxed and the demon leaned up into the man as best he could, pressing his lips against Ford’s ear and whispering, soft and hot, into it.

Ancient, nameless whispers that were words and yet not words, sounds that belonged in another realm. Ford’s vision became fuzzy and the darkness spread around him, and he groaned as those chapped lips kissed his ear, his neck, before teeth found and bit his earlobe, hard enough to bleed.

Even as he closed his own, he could still see Bill’s black, bottomless eye, its darkness caressing him, winding around him, holding him, safe...he saw flashes of yellow and blue, scenes from his past cast like shadows in his mind.

_Ford shakes hands with Bill. Drinks tea. Plays chess._

_Bill tells a bad joke, his eye screwed up in amusement, and Ford forces an awkward laugh to be polite._

_Ford fixes an equation and Bill exclaims in glee, ruffling up Ford’s mop of hair with those tiny fingers._

_Ford realizing one night, as he’s alone in bed, hand wrapped around his cock, that he’s in love with his muse._

‘ _Bill, I want you to be physical, I want to_ be _with you...’_

_Those fingers in his hair again. The eye before him looks genuinely sad._

_Bill is a good actor._

‘ _IF WE get this PORTAL UP AND RUNNING, there’s NO LIMIT to what WE CAN DO. I CAN BE as PHYSICAL AS YOU WANT and we can_ GET _AS PHYSICAL AS YOU WANT, if YOU GET MY MEANING. WHAT I WAS TRYING TO SAY is that we can HAVE SEX. THAT’S WHAT I WAS trying to say.’_

_Ford grins sheepishly up at Bill, before laughing genuinely at his joke, feeling his heart practically burst open with love. He is special, he loves and is loved by this ancient, all-knowing entity._

_He wants to be with Bill. For longer than eternity._

_Things go wrong. So wrong._

_Fiddleford is traumatized._

_The Beast With One Eye._

L e T m E g O

_The truth comes out. Bill has lied to him. Bill has never loved him._

L e T M E GO

_His heart has never been so broken._

L E T M E G O

The voice in his head was loud and demanding and was enough to snap Ford out of it.

“ _Enough!!_ ” he exclaimed and jerked away violently. Bill looked surprised, slowly licking Ford’s blood off of his lips.

“It was just a love bite, Fordsy, you kinda always struck me as the kinky ty--”

“Don’t you _dare_!!” Ford yelled and struck Bill across the face, hard. He recoiled slightly, his surprise still evident, before his face split in a vicious grin and he cackled maniacally.

“A-hahahaha!! They say you never get over your first love, Sixer!! If it wasn’t for that pesky resolve of yours, you’d have given in completely! Still want me at your age! Impressive! Come on, kid, these are compliments here!”

“How _dare_ you try to seduce me, you...heinous devil!!”

“I mean, historically, it’s what demons are known for. It’s as natural to me as eating is to you,” Bill’s grin turned vicious, wild, “as natural as me eating you.”

“No more talking,” Ford commanded and snatched up the book containing the rune activation spells, “at least I know now you still have access to some of your demonic abilities. I’ll have to give you incentive not to use them.”

Bill’s attitude immediately switched from crazed delight to wild anger as he thrashed against his binds, snarling, a vicious dog on a too-tight leash.

“I will MURDER YOU and your WHOLE FA--”

He didn’t finish. His voice trailed off, his face going slack and eye staring up at the ceiling. Ford stayed still for a minute, the rune book still open his his hands, and observed.

“...Cipher? What are you playing at this time? If you think you can fool me twice--”

Bill blinked, and when he opened his eyes again, they were lit up in the brightest blue Ford had ever seen. Even the usually black eye glowed a violent turquoise. The markings on his body lit up in the color of molten gold. Ford stepped back cautiously as Bill parted his lips.

The demon began uttering a sudden and steady stream of garbled language, words and syllables and consonants that shouldn’t have been possible from a human mouth. His voice had taken on its usual intensity, its usual echo. His body strained against the table, every muscle rigid, every tendon tensed and bulging against paper-pale skin.

A whirlwind kicked up in the room, sweeping dust and loose papers along with it. Ford stared in fascination and horror as the incantations became louder and then…

As quickly as it had began, it ended. The whirlwind died down. The blue glow was gone and that horrible garbled language with it.

Bill was soaked with sweat and his eyes were wide. He trembled violently and his chest heaved.

“Bill,” Ford approached cautiously, making sure to hold the rune book where Bill could see it, just in case, “Cipher, what was that?”

Bill’s eye flitted anxiously around the room until it settled on Ford. When he spoke, his voice was unnaturally soft, strained.

“Them. Activating my power remotely. Using it...”

“Them? The secret society? What are they using your power for?”

“I told you, I don’t know. I don’t know. _I don’t know._ ”

Bill sighed, long and drawn, and closed his eyes, either refusing to or unable to answer any more of Ford’s questions.

F I n d T h E M

Ford went stiff at the unwelcome thought in his mind. He looked at the body before him, still shaking against its bonds.

He’d never seen Bill Cipher in such a sorry state before, hadn’t even known it was possible. Those memories resurfaced again, making his heart ache with the pain of his first love and his second big betrayal, a pain that was as sweet as it was sick. He stared at Bill for another moment before pulling something off of a nearby shelf.

“You don’t deserve any kindness,” he muttered as he tucked the blanket around Bill’s trembling body, “but sometimes we humans don’t know when not to give it.”

 


	5. Freakishly Well Behaved

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things have to get worse before they can get better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am sincerely sorry for all the Bill torture porn. It's for the plot! Really! Also, there's mentions of rape in this chapter. There's no ACTUAL rape involved, just mentions of it, so steel yourself if you're sensitive to that kind of thing.

“Mabel really can make friends anywhere, can’t she?” Stan wiped his feet on the rug before entering the Shack, Dipper following behind him.

“You’re telling me. Last fall we were at an away game and within, I’m not even kidding, the first twenty minutes there, she made friends with the entire opposing cheerleading squad _and_ the towel boy and had already planned a spring break cruise with them.”

“Weird kid,” Stan grunted, “she go on that cruise?”

“Yeah. A cruise to the Bahamas. They liked her so much they made her an honorary citizen. And no, I’m not kidding.”

“Well, at least someone in this family is good in social situations. Hopefully she’ll have fun...what is it you kids say? ‘Hanging out’? Hanging out with that nice snack vendor girl. I would just be in it for the snacks.”

“I’ve done things I’m not proud of for beef jerky,” Dipper answered in agreement, then looked up as Ford entered the room. He was dressed in his old overcoat, a laser gun slung over his shoulder and his utility belt packed.

"We have a situation,” he said grimly, looking at Stan, “I need your help, Stanley.”

“Oh, don’t tell me! The demon you’ve been keeping locked up in the basement escaped! Who saw that one coming? Oh wait, uh, me!”

“As a matter of fact,” Ford answered stiffly, “that is not the situation. He’s still secure downstairs. But he started glowing and chanting...for a second, I thought he was trying to kill me, but it turns out that secret society was successfully harnessing his power. Seems they can access it even when he’s not physically there with them. I think I can track them down using my energy sensor, but I need backup. I need you, Stanley.”

Stan’s expression softened, his shoulders sagging in embarrassment.

“Oh, uh...yeah, of course I’ll help. Sorry for uh...jumpin’ on you like that.”

“It’s understandable. Dipper,” he turned toward the boy, “I want you and your sister to watch Bill while we’re gone.”

“Mabel’s off cavorting with her new snack friend,” Stan said, “you want Dipper to be alone with that monster?”

“I’m not worried. Bill is the weakest he’s ever been, and Dipper is a smart boy,” he grinned down at Dipper, who could have exploded with joy at the compliment.

“...if you’re sure, Poindexter. I’ll go get my stabby weapons and my shooty weapons.”

They watched Stan leave and Ford put his hand to Dipper’s back, leading him toward the vending machine.

“Come with me, I’ll show you what you need to do.”

The room was dim as ever and had the distinct smell of ozone...Dipper crinkled his nose against the scent.

He saw Bill on the table, covered up with a white blanket, and his heart pounded in his chest.

“Oh my god! Is he...is he dead?! The sheet! You did the sheet thing! I know what that means! Is he dead?!”

“Dipper! Dipper, relax! He’s not dead, I just...I just covered him.”

Dipper was somehow both relieved and even more anxious than before. He glanced at Bill, who seemed to be doing his level best to keep his eye averted from the two of them.

Dipper noticed he was trembling under the blanket. Ford thrust a book in his hands.

“Here, Dipper. Take a look at...this page. This is the incantation you’ll need to read if there’s any sign of trouble. I’m confident he’s not going to be able to do anything, he’s far too weak, but if he does, reading this spell should zap the resolve right out of him.”

“Uh, okay, Grunkle Ford,” Dipper nodded, skimming over the words, “I can do that.”

Ford put both his hands on Dipper’s shoulders, tightly enough to hurt, and looked down at the boy.

“And Dipper. This is important. Listen very closely.”

There was something in the man’s voice that left no room for disobedience. Dipper nodded dumbly.

“If he does anything. So much as makes a move or opens that blasphemous mouth of his. If he starts to say _anything,_ even if he _looks_ at you funny, I want you to read this spell. Without hesitation. Do you understand?”

Dipper nodded again, recoiling slightly against the old man’s intensity.

“Good boy,” Ford nodded, pleased, and began gathering up some materials and stuffing them into a leather satchel. Dipper looked over at Bill, who hadn’t so much as blinked since he had entered.

“Grunkle Ford...uh, do you mind me asking a question?”

“Shoot, my boy.”

“Bill seems...I don’t know, freakishly well behaved right now. It’s just a little...out of character? Did...something happen, or…?”

“You can thank whoever’s accessing his power for that,” Ford waved offhandedly.

“Huh?”

Ford shouldered his satchel and looked up at the ceiling, tapping his chin with one finger as if thinking of the best way to phrase his next sentence.

“With entities like Bill...it’s important to remember they’re not like us. We humans, we’re the sum of all our parts. Body, mind, soul, emotion, et cetera, et cetera. A demon is only the sum of its abilities, its power. There’s no compartmentalization to a creature like that. Which makes them more powerful, but, in a way, more vulnerable. To a demon, having their power, the very essence of their being, bound and controlled by an outside force is...how do I put this. Rather traumatizing. I guess if you want to put it into human terms, it’s like being raped.”

Dipper’s heart sank and his blood ran cold. He couldn’t help it, he involuntarily looked over at Bill. The demon’s face was turned away from the two, but he visibly shifted uncomfortably.

“Raped…?” Dipper asked slowly, his body rigid.

“Hm? Oh yes. If you want to put it in human terms, as I said. In demon terms, it’s probably much worse.”

Something about Ford’s offhanded tone bothered him even more than that statement.

“Worse!?”

“Well yes. As I said, we’re the sum of our parts. There will always be parts of us that are left unscathed. Souls, part of our minds, things like that. Demons are just...what they are. When their power is taken without their consent, no part of them is left untouched.”

Dipper felt sick.

“Remember what I said, Dipper. If he says or does _anything_...read that spell.”

He patted the boy on the head affectionately, giving him a rather sad smile before leaving.

Dipper was left alone in the cold room. Just him, Bill, and a silence so uncomfortable that it stung.

* * *

 Hours went by with nothing of note happening, and Dipper’s diligence had admittedly waned. He sat in a chair against the wall, reading an old choose-your-own-adventure book.

His adventures always seemed to end poorly.

Bill had been silent the whole time, which Dipper considered a miracle in and of itself. Whenever he thought of Bill Cipher, the first thing he thought of was that weird, echoed voice and its nearly constant chatter. Now Bill seemed too put out, maybe too afraid, to say anything.

And really, what was there to say?

Was Ford right? Was controlling a demon without its consent really akin to rape? Dipper didn’t find it so farfetched of an idea, and if Bill’s silence and intermittent shudders were any indication...he tried to quell those thoughts, those pangs of guilt, and focused again on the book.

He huffed as he landed on a page that told him he was to be roasted alive and fed to cannibals.

“This book sucks,” he grumbled. Bill gave a small moan, and Dipper thought it may have been a sound of acknowledgment.

But then the noises continued and Dipper jumped to his feet, his adventure book cast aside. Bill’s eyes were wide open, glowing cerulean lamplights that cut through the gloom. He uttered primal, garbled words, psalms in old and unspeakable languages...and Dipper remembered Ford’s warning. Like a shot, he snatched the rune book off of Ford’s research desk, eyes searching for the incantation before finally landing upon it. He wasted no time in chanting the spell, making sure his voice was loud and as steady as he could manage.

Things promptly got worse.

Bill’s glowing eyes flashed yellow then back to blue and the alarming, garbled chants did not stop. His formerly rigid body now thrashed against its bonds, blue electricity sparked and sizzled in the room around them. Amid the din, Dipper heard a pained howl and he realized; the scream was Bill’s. Somehow, Bill was both speaking those unearthly words and screaming at the same time...Dipper jumped as a third voice entered his mind.

P I n e T R E E

d o N O T

Dipper gasped and panicked and read the spell again, louder this time. And the screaming became heavier, the chanting more intense, the thrashing more frenzied. The air burned with the smell of ozone and a cyclone seemed to spawn from nowhere within the room, Bill’s voices carried on its swirling winds.

The Desk of Gaap rattled violently and Dipper had to leap aside to narrowly avoid being hit by the thing as it swept itself up into the air, teetering, before it righted and began levitating perpendicular to the wall. The sheet fell off of Bill and Dipper could see the binding marks on his body glowing, burning gold, and Bill’s garbled voice rose in pitch and tempo until it was an all-consuming howl on the wind, all Dipper could hear, thrumming like a tribal drum into his very body.

d o N O T

“What is _happening_!?” Dipper yelled in desperation before reading the spell again, then again, then again, trying in vain to raise his voice against the bedlam. The air sizzled, smoke rose from Bill’s body, and, when he looked at Bill’s face…

The eyes were still wide and pupilless, glowing that too-bright blue, but now steady streams of blood poured from them like tears.

And with a jolt, Dipper realized.

_They’re using his power again._

The cyclonic storm of dust and loose papers raged around them, Dipper in the center of the room, staring up at the floating table with Bill attached to it, all thrashes and nameless language and shrieks and tears of blood. He was spread like a sacrifice, blood blooming through the bandages on his hands and feet, prone and pale and...

‘ _I guess if you want to put it into human terms, it’s like being raped’_ Ford’s words echoed in Dipper’s head and his heart sunk.

_I’m making it worse._

“Bill!” he screamed against the wind, yelping as a pen hit his cheek at such a high speed that it left a bloody mark, “tell me how to stop this!!”

N E x t P A g e

Dipper obeyed the invading voice and turned to the next page in the spell book, which was no easy task against the whipping winds and shrapnel all around him. He hesitated for one moment before reading the incantation before him...everything seemed to stop for a moment, to hang still...then the wind died, the howling cut off abruptly, and the manacles on the table unlatched themselves, sending Bill tumbling to the floor before the table itself fell, landing heavily on top of him.

“Fuck!” Dipper tossed the book aside and scrambled over to him, pulling the table off him with a strength he didn’t know he possessed, “come on, man, come on...” he pulled Bill against him, and the demon’s head fell into his lap. Bill’s eyes were still open wide and blue, he still muttered in some distorted language, but it was less frenzied. The blood leaking from his eyes had ceased, leaving dark trails down his pale face.

It seemed like an eternity, Dipper holding Bill uncertainly as he glowed and chanted and lay like a corpse with rigor mortis on the floor. And then...the glow was gone, the chants died off. A sense of calm, normalcy, swept back through the room. Dipper could hear only his own heartbeat and Bill’s labored breathing.

Bill’s chest heaved as his eye darted around the room, frenzied, until it found Dipper above him. Dipper could feel him shaking like a leaf, his normally bright blonde hair gone dark and matted with sweat. They stared at each other for a moment, two sets of wide eyes locked together.

Bill looked so _lost._ If Dipper hadn’t known this was Bill, hadn’t known Bill to be the malevolent creature he was, his heart would have been breaking for him. And even then, he felt that old guilt multiplied by a hundred. Bill’s eye didn’t leave Dipper’s face, and Dipper was surprised to find an odd comfort in its weird yellow glow.

“I...are you…uh...okay…? Dipper asked slowly, awkwardly.

Bill opened his mouth and Dipper thought he was about to answer, but instead he just sighed a brittle sigh. His tired eye looked toward the door, and Dipper was confused until he heard his sister’s unmistakable voice.

“Dipper!! Guess who won a lifesize baby pygmy hippo stuffed animal at the arcade!? This girl!!”

She bounded into the room with the hippo plushie in her arms, then stopped in her tracks at the sight before her. The room in shambles, the Desk of Gaap on its side, Bill bloodied and free of its clutches, his head resting in her brother’s lap.

“Whaaaat is going on here…?” she asked, approaching slowly.

“Mabel!” Dipper exclaimed, words beginning to tumble from his mouth, “the-the chanter guys! They were using Bill’s power so Stan and Ford went to go find them and...and Ford told me to stay down here and watch Bill and read that spell if he did anything, and then he started glowing and acting all weird so I read the spell and that made things worse and Ford said when demons get their powers controlled by outside forces its like rape and I’m pretty sure that’s what was happening and I--”

“Whoa whoa, wait. What?” she sat down beside him, putting a gentle hand to his back.

Dipper took a deep breath and told her everything that had happened.

Once he was done, she looked horrified, casting uncertain glances down at Bill, who had long since closed his eyes and was either unaware or didn’t care that she was looking at him.

“What do we do now…?” Dipper asked pleadingly. He was too tired, too conflicted, to know what to do. She looked at him, then at Bill, who’d remained silent and unmoving through the whole thing.

“Well...first we have to get him out of here.”

“What? We can’t just--”

“Dipper, look at him! He’s weak, he’s been locked up and tortured and...and _power-raped_ , we can’t just keep him in this dark old room. Let’s get him into a real bed with real covers so he can rest.”

“Mabel, he’s dangerous--”

“Look at him, Dipper,” she motioned sadly toward him, “he’s helpless and he’s scared. If we don’t help, we’re no better than he is.”

That same argument again. But Dipper didn’t disagree. He was too tired and too upset to put up much of a fight.

With a little coordination, they hefted Bill up between them. They helped him walk out the room, through the lab, up the stairs and again up into the attic, his head remaining bowed and bobbing.

They lay him in Dipper’s bed. Mabel set to the task of wetting a washcloth with warm water, gently cleaning the twin blood trails off of Bill’s cheeks. Once done, she patted the covers around him gingerly as Dipper paced nervously in the background.

There was a weird silence hanging in the air, and finally Bill spoke.

“He was right about that ‘human kindness’ shit,” he muttered brokenly, and then, without any further explanation, his pupil rolled up into the back of his head and he slipped into unconsciousness again.

“...what do we do now?” Dipper asked.

“I’ll watch him. You get some sleep,” Mabel answered.

“Mabel, you don’t have too--”

“Shhhh shh sh shh shh...” she pressed a finger against his lips to stop him and he grimaced against it, “we have to sleep at some point. I’m all amped up on Mabel Juice and that sweet hippo plushie and you’ve had to deal with this all day...you sleep first. I’ll wake you up for second shift. Okay?”

Dipper nodded after some thought. She was right, he was exhausted. If he was honest with himself, which he often tried not to be, he likely wouldn’t have lasted an hour before nodding off.

“Thanks, Mabel. You’re the best. If he does anything...”

“I’ll yell to wake you up. Then I’ll hit him in the head with a baseball bat,” she answered, gesturing toward the stout hickory bat that lay against the wall. Dipper couldn’t help but smirk at the mental image of Mabel pummeling Bill with a piece of sports equipment.

As Mabel sat against the wall with her arms wound around her legs, Dipper curled up in the bed that used to belong to her, before they had outgrown sharing rooms. Somehow it still smelled like her, and the familiarity of it lulled him into an almost immediate sleep.

* * *

He woke with a jolt. Confusion muddled his brain as he squinted his eyes against the bright light streaming in through the attic window. Daytime. Had he really been asleep that long? Had Mabel really never woken him up?

He sat up and looked blearily around the room and, as his eyes adjusted, a burst of horror hit him like a bombshell.

His bed was empty, the covers thrown haphazardly to the corner of the room. Bill wasn’t there.

Neither was Mabel.

Heavy smears of blood stained the floorboards and lead out the room in the form of dark red drag marks.


	6. Splash and Bubblebeam

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Dipper struggles to keep tabs on a maniacal space demon. Mabel seems to be doing a pretty okay job. BillDip finally begins to happen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all again for your kind comments! They seriously make my day. I don't have anyone in the Real World who will discuss Gravity Falls with me, much less BillDip, so seeing all the great feedback I'm getting on this makes me happier than you'll ever realize.  
> In addition to more chapters (which will be posted as quickly as I can churn them out) I'm also working on a lot of Gravity Falls fanart that will be posted on my tumblr, so stay tuned!  
> Thanks again, pals!!

“No! No no no no!” Dipper tugged at his hair in panic before vaulting from the bed. His leg got caught in a tangle of covers and he tripped, falling hard against the rough attic floor. He was eye-level with that heavy wash of blood and it made him want to vomit. With frenzied difficulty, he shook the offending sheet off his foot and tore out of the room, following the dark red drag marks down the stairs.

“Mabel!” he yelled desperately, “ _Mabel!_ ”

If Bill had hurt her, if he had  _killed_ her...the thought was unbearable. His chest tightened and his heart beat faster than what he had considered to be humanly possible.

The drag marks ended in the hallway and he paused, terrified and confused.

Then that familiar obnoxious laugh sounded from the kitchen. Dipper clenched his fists and an anger he’d never known before flared within him. He sprinted toward the kitchen, his fists balled up, ready to come at Bill with an animal rage and tear him limb from limb, how could he have left Mabel alone with that monster, why did he ever free Bill from the Desk--

He stopped in his tracks as he entered the room.

Bill and Mabel sat casually at the table. Mabel was eating pancakes and Bill was nibbling at a piece of toast so burnt it probably couldn’t be considered a wheat product anymore. He wore a yellow dress shirt that was too big on him, along with the black trousers and suspenders they had stolen from the museum. Fresh bandages were wrapped around his hands and feet.

“And then what happened?” Bill asked, swinging his legs to and fro under the table like a child.

“He said, ‘Frankly, my dear, I don’t give a damn’, and walked right out on her!"

“Did he really not give a damn?!” Bill gasped, crumbs flying out of his mouth.

“She just pushed him past his breaking point,” Mabel shook her head sadly, then looked up at Dipper, “Bro-bro! You’re awake!”

“I uh...yeah...what’s...”

“Want some pancakes?” she asked and held out a plate stacked high.

“Or some charcoal bread?” Bill offered up his half-eaten piece of toast. Dipper stared at them.

“What...what is going on here?! I woke up and there was  _blood_ everywhere and I thought...”

“Oh,  _that_ ,” Mabel slipped out of her chair and went to pour some coffee, “Bill woke up and was messing with his unhealed wounds.”

“ _Stigmata_ ,” Bill corrected almost proudly.

“Unhealed  _stigmata_  wounds,” Mabel allowed, “he messed with the ones on his feet so bad that he was bleeding like a stuck pi--” she glanced over at Waddles, who looked up from his food bowl, “...a uh...it was bleeding really bad. I was trying to get him to come with me to bandage them up but he kept going limp noodle on me. I had to drag him to the bathroom to take care of it.”

"And then we fought a pack of Skinwalkers,” Bill added.

“That didn’t happen, but it probably would have been fun.”

“ _Mabel_! Mabel, you can’t just...you can’t just  _hang out_ with Bill!!” Dipper threw his arms into the air in frustration, “he’s...he’s Bill!!”

“That’s not technically my name. Sure you don’t want this some of this charcoal bread? It’s pretty great.”

Dipper opened his mouth again, preparing to voice his outrage, when Mabel grabbed him by the arm and led him outside of the kitchen.

“Dipper, listen--”

“ _Bill. Cipher._ Mabel! No! Hang out with—no! Mabel! Evil! Triangle!  _Mabel!!_ ” Dipper babbled, unable to form coherent sentences in his distress.

“Snap out of it man!” she gave him a none-too-gentle slap on the cheek and held him by his shoulders, “listen to me! I...I fell asleep last night. I couldn’t help it.”

“You...”

“Yeah,” she admitted, ashamed, “but I woke up this morning, and Bill was already awake. He’d been awake for a while and hadn’t tried anything. He didn’t even attempt to hurt me, or you, but he could have...easily. Instead, he was messing with his wounds and looking at your magazines.”

“Wha...which magazines?!”

“The ones you keep under your mattress!” Bill’s voice called out from the kitchen, “so  _scandalous!_ ”

“You knew about those?!” Dipper squeaked in horror. Mabel rolled her eyes.

“Dipper,  _everyone_ knows about those. The point is, if he wanted to hurt us, he could have--”

“This could just be part of some twisted plot he’s got in store for--”

“Dip,” Mabel pulled him farther away from the kitchen, her voice lowered, “he came to you for help, right? He told the truth. And he hasn’t tried to hurt us or traumatize us or do anything. He’s got nothing to gain from that. And he’s been hurt, bad...come on. Can you at least try to be nice?”

“Nice to Bill??” Dipper asked incredulously. Mabel nodded, grinning her typical sweet grin.

Dipper groaned and Mabel seemed to take that as an affirmative, taking hold of Dipper’s arm and dragging him back into the kitchen with her.

Bill had his face and palms pressed up against the kitchen window and seemed to be having a staring contest with an owl perched on the windowsill outside.

“I see you, owl _..._ ” he muttered as if he had a personal vendetta against the bird. It hooted in offense at him.

Dipper took Mabel up on her offer of pancakes, emptying half a bottle of syrup on them. He tended to overdo it on sugar in times of stress.

“Mabel, Bill isn’t just some pet like Waddles. When our Grunkles get back, they’re going to want to lock him up again. And that is completely understandable!” he stuffed a forkful of pancake in his mouth and ignored Bill’s glare.

“They called earlier. I don’t think they’ll be back for a couple of days,” Mabel answered, “they apparently found the chant-y guys, but then the chant-y guys did some sort of chant-y spell and vanished like  _poof_!” she made made ‘poof’ gestures with her fingers.

“Yeah, using  _my_ power!” Bill snapped bitterly and shoved the rest of the toast into his mouth.

“Where are they now?”

“Tracking down where the chant-y guys disappeared to. They said they may not be home for a while, and asked if everything was okay here.”

“And. You obviously lied to them,” Dipper said drlyly, cocking an eyebrow.

“Not necessarily,” Mabel shrugged, “things are relatively okay! I just didn’t mention that Bill was out of the binding dealie and slept like an adorable baby bunny in your bed all night.”

“Baby bunnies make great sacrifices!” Bill apparently felt the need to mention, before beginning to gnaw on a package of instant oatmeal.

“You’re supposed to open that first,” Dipper sighed, “and put the contents in a bowl and mix it with hot water.”

“Seems like a lot of work,” the demon answered around mouthfuls of paper and oats.

“What are we going to  _do_ with him, Mabel?”

“Don’t worry, it’ll be just like babysitting!”

"Babysitting usually doesn’t involve interdimensional space demons who have tried to _kill_ us before!”

“Yeesh, kid,” Dipper jumped as Bill hooked his arm around his neck, pulling him in close, “You’re gettin’ way too caught up on that whole ‘tried to kill you’ thing. Water under the bridge! Right, Shooting Star?”

“Under the bridge!” Mabel agreed and held up her coffee mug in a cheer. Dipper wriggled out of Bill’s grasp.

“You don’t just forgive someone for trying to kill you! That’s not how it works!!”

“Tell that to Dick Cheney! Ahahahaha!!”

Dipper sighed heavily. He had the feeling he wouldn’t be getting much relaxing done this summer.

“How are we gonna keep him a secret from Soos and Melody? Not to mention the hordes of innocent tourists that stop by the shack every day?”

“Tourists bore me,” Bill waved dismissively, “you guys are much more interesting.”

“We can say he’s a new hire!”

“Not gonna work, Mabel. Even Soos is gonna recognize Bill’s voice.”

“Also, I have zero interest in  _working_ ,” Bill scoffed, now standing on his tiptoes, trying in vain to reach a honey jar on a high shelf. He was a bit too short for the task and it amused Dipper more than it should have.

“If you’re gonna stay here, you’ve gotta pull your weight,” he demanded, snatching the jar off the shelf and handing it to Bill, if for no other reason than to remind the demon who was taller. It was a dick move, Dipper knew, and Bill obviously saw Dipper’s intention as he snatched the jar from him, glowering.

“That’s where you got it wrong, Pine Tree,” he flung the lid off the jar and, as it shattered on the floor, he jabbed a finger into the honey and stuck it into his mouth, “ _’jobs’_ are nothing more than global imprisonment under a carefully crafted false pretense! The elite are making you think that spending eight hours a day on something you hate for someone you don’t know or care about for more than a third of your life is ‘normal’, while all you’re really doing is making yourselves depressed and complacent and whittling down your already negligible lifespans to earn more power for the people in charge!”

Mabel looked up from her plate, her eyes large.

“I was looking forward to getting a for-reals job...” she said softly.

“Sorry to burst your bubbles, kids!!” his grin indicated that he wasn't sorry at all. He scooped up an entire handful of honey, smashing it against his mouth.

“Oh my god. Bill! You can’t just—stop that!” Dipper yanked the jar away from him, then recoiled as Bill wiped his still-sticky palm down Dipper’s face in retaliation, “Bill!!!”

“What? Bee vomit is delicious!” and, as if to illustrate his point, he leaned forward and licked Dipper’s cheek in one long, wet swipe.

“AAUGHH!” Dipper flailed his arms wildly in an attempt to keep Bill away. Mabel snapped picture after picture on her cell phone.

“Memories,” she giggled.

Once Dipper had washed his face with scalding hot water and the twins had finally convinced Bill to clean himself up too, the demon immediately set off exploring the Shack. He was followed doggedly by Dipper, who didn’t trust Bill to be alone for more than a millisecond. Mabel followed closely behind, snapping pictures the entire time.

Bill seemed bored by most things in the Shack proper, with the exception of Gregory Frill-face, the axolotl that Dipper had caught what seemed like ages ago. He plucked the little thing from its aquarium and examined it closely. Dipper had a very real fear that Bill was going to eat it.

“Axolotl!” he said pointlessly, grinning at the little pink salamander.

“His name is Gregory Frill-face,” Mabel said proudly, “he’s got a mild nature and knows the moves Splash and Bubblebeam!”

“Please don’t eat him, Bill, I will  _super_ freak out if you do.”

“Why eat him when I can just eat your souls? Ah-hahaha! I’m kidding!” he slapped Dipper hard enough on the back to send the boy sprawling to the floor. Then he handed Gregory to Mabel, seeming pleased, “delightful little guy! I like him a lot better than I do you, Pine Tree. Let’s go destroy your great uncle’s basement!”

He set off at a run, cackling, and Dipper sprang up, chasing after him.

“No!”

“Dipper he’s just kidding!” Mabel said from gently patting Gregory Frill-face on the head.

“I’m not kidding!” Bill called back.

After a while of scrambling to reach Bill, who was already downstairs, it turned out he had, in fact, been kidding. Dipper figured it was the appropriate choice of action for an entity who claimed itself to be the master of chaos.

Bill was instead rifling through Ford’s copious notes, glancing at them and then tossing them aside.

“Nope! Wrong!  _Super_ wrong! Almost right, but not quite! Wrong! Bad wrong! Fuck, I thought Sixer was supposed to be smart!!”

“He _is_  smart,” Dipper wheezed, doubled over and panting from running after Bill. He didn’t know how a body that had been so traumatized and lost so much blood could have the energy to sprint the way he did, but he chalked it up to Bill’s innate demonic abilities to make him feel better, “the smartest.”

“Pfft!  _The smartest._ You’re seeing ole Fordsy through a pair of rose-colored glasses, kid. You know what makes those glasses rose colored? Blood! Hahahaha!”

“Oh my fucking god,” Dipper snatched a book of notes away from Bill’s clutches, “you are never allowed to eat honey ever again.  _Ever._  You’re worse than Mabel on a sugar high!”

“I’m just enjoying having semi-free reign of the physical world!” Bill explained, “it’s not as good as ruling over it and being able to twist reality at my will, but it’s still kinda fun. I always forget how durable these human bodies are. I only feel like I’m gonna pass out a little!”

“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but you should be resting. I honestly don’t know how your body is functioning right now.”

“It’s not just a body, kid. It’s me now.”

“You said that back at Grenda’s house, I’m still not sure what you mean by that.”

“Haha! Oh, Grendo. What a terrible monster. Her future kids are gonna be the next wave of human evolution. Anyway! Once that ritual was performed and this poor sap,” he hooked his fingers through the suspenders and snapped them back, “was offered up as the sacrifice, his body basically became a blank canvas. It doesn’t  _contain_ me, it  _is_ me. Granted, not at my full glory, but I think it’s safe to say I can withstand more than a normal human could. Plus I can do this!”

He reached behind Dipper’s ear and pulled his hand back to reveal a quarter in between his fingers.

“That’s just a stupid parlor trick, Bill."

“But where did I get the quarter?! Life is full of mystery!”

He watched as Bill continued to sort through Ford’s notes, every now and then shaking his blonde head and grinning almost fondly before tossing the documents aside.

A sick sense of wonder gnawed at Dipper. If Bill really had been suffering so much; had been tortured and physically abused and had his very being twisted against his will...how in the world was he so vibrant and chipper after only one night? This Bill seemed a far cry from the one he had cradled in his lap last night, even a far cry from the first night when they had dragged the newly-humanized demon to Grenda’s place. There was a wild fervor to him and it made Dipper suspicious.

Was this just all an elaborate trick? What was he trying to accomplish? 

“Okay, that’s enough, Bill. Let’s go back upstairs.”

“Nope! I wanna see what kind of notes Fordsy has in that room his was keeping me in, and you’re coming with me. Might be something to help me get out of this situation.”

“Why should I come with you?”

“Because you don’t trust me enough to leave me alone,” Bill smirked over his shoulder as he walked away. Dipper screwed up his eyes in frustration and huffed like a baby horse. He bitterly followed after Bill, hating how right he was.

When they entered the room where the Desk of Gaap still lay on its side, Bill’s attitude shifted visibly. He walked softer, slower, and eyed the Desk with distrust, skirting around it to get to Ford’s scattered notes. And then, Dipper realized...

_He wanted me to come with him because he was afraid to go alone…_

I T h U R t s

His eyes went wide at Bill’s voice in his head. He stared at the demon, but Bill did absolutely nothing to indicate that he knew what had just happened. Maybe he had imagined it?

Dipper was starting to wonder if he really was going crazy.

Or maybe Bill wasn’t in as much control of the situation as he pretended to be.

Bill gathered up all of Ford’s notes and books and, shooting one last nervous glance at the Desk, he and Dipper ascended back into the Shack. 

The demon spent the rest of the day switching between reading Ford’s notes and Dipper’s choose-your-own-adventure book while Dipper paced. Much to Dipper’s chagrin, Bill always seemed to know which option to pick to ensure he got the best outcome.

“They made me their king!” he grinned, holding up the page illustrated with thousands of bowing peasants.

“Those books are dumb!!” Dipper retaliated and Bill looked at it, one eyebrow raised.

“How can a book be dumb?” he asked himself, then shrugged and continued reading. 

The afternoon came and Dipper felt his eyelids droop. He yawned and continued pacing, his footfalls more sluggish and heavy.

“You’d be less tired if you’d stop pacing,” Mabel said, not looking up from painting Waddles’ hooves, “besides, what’s there to pace about? Bill is asleep.”

She gestured over to the demon, who was indeed laid flat out on a pile of Ford’s notes, more books and papers laid out on top of him in a kind of makeshift blanket, his eyes closed and his mouth wide open as he slumbered.

“Mabel, aren’t you freaked out by all this? At least a little bit?”

“Well yeah, you'd have to be crazy not to be!" she said, and it surprised him a little, "but come on, Dipper. There’s nothing we can do, so there’s no sense in worrying over it so much.”

“We could lock him back up.”

“Uh-huh,” Mabel raised an eyebrow incredulously, “and are you gonna actually do that?”

He stared at her, then looked down.

“That’s what I thought,” she stood and patted him on the shoulder, “we’ll deal with this step by step. Okay? Now stop your  _actual_  stepping and take a nap or something! All your pacing has literally worn down the carpet.”

Dipper looked down. She was not wrong.

“Fine...but don’t fall asleep this time, okay? Someone needs to be watching him at all times. I’ll take a nap and then I’ll watch him tonight while you sleep. Deal?”

“You got it, bro,” she smiled.

Sleep came to Dipper more easily than he thought it would, and by the time he woke, it was dark out. He rubbed his eyes and traipsed down the stairs, gasping as he heard Mabel squeal.

“Mabel!!” he yelled and darted toward her, his chest tight with fear for the second time that day. He barreled so quickly down the stairs that he couldn’t stop himself in time and slammed into the living room door jamb before dazedly staggering in.

Mabel was upside-down on the couch, her cell phone against her ear. Bill was nowhere to be seen.

“Oh. My. GOD! Grenda!!! That’s amazing!! Of  _course_ I’ll be your maid of honor!! You are going to be. So. Beautiful.”

She grinned and righted herself with she saw Dipper.

“Dipper!! Grenda, Dipper is here, I’m gonna tell him! Dipper, Marius proposed to Grenda! I told him! Huh? Does he look heartbroken? Hm...no...he does look a little sick, but he normally looks like that...”

“Mabel! Where’s Bill?!"

"What's that, Grenda? Who's Bill? No, he's not Dipper's boyfriend. Yet!! Oh, you are so _bad_!!"

"Mabel!! Be serious! Where is he?!"

“Huh? Oh, I dunno, somewhere, probably. Oh my god, no, you have the perfect figure to wear white!”

Dipper made what he meant to be a frustrated growl, but it came out more like a high whine. He immediately set about searching the area.

After a long and increasingly stressful bout of looking, he finally found Bill on the roof.

The demon was laying against the shingles, hands behind his head, one leg crossed over the other and his bare foot bouncing gently as he gazed at the stars. Dipper hesitated.

Something about the scene instilled a strange serenity within him. Maybe it was seeing the usually excitable demon still and silent, or the way he looked almost normal in the darkness, despite the glow of his eye.

Dipper climbed out of the hatch and sat down, far enough away from Bill to where he couldn't push Dipper off the roof. 

“You can’t just wander off like that,” he sighed in relief. 

“There’s a lot of things I can’t do at the moment, but wandering off isn’t one of them,” Bill answered flatly. Dipper judged by the tone of his voice that it was best not to prod him at the moment. The demon’s manic energy from earlier in the day seemed to have waned, replaced instead with a introspective weariness. Dipper had figured it would only be a matter of time before Bill wore himself out.

“Nice night?” he had meant it to be a statement, but his voice jumped in pitch and it came out as more of a question. Bill gave a noncommittal hum.

“Hey uh...can I ask you something?”

“Just did, Shorts.”

_What’s that supposed to mean? Are my shorts too short? Is he trying to say that my shorts are too short?? I thought they were appropriately sized!_

He tugged self-consciously at the hem of his shorts, forcing the paranoid thoughts out of his head.

“You know what I mean.’

Bill smirked and glanced at him.

“Looks like I’ve got nothin’ better to do. Shoot, kid.”

“I uh...what happened down in the basement...was it really like Grunkle Ford said? Having someone control your power...it's kind of traumatizing...?”

“Definitely not pleasant,” Bill muttered uncomfortably.

“I mean...is it really as bad as...as he said?”

“You wanna find out?”

“Wha--” and suddenly he was pinned against the roof, Bill on top of him, his face nearly fully shadowed if not for the illumination of his eye. Dipper gasped and struggled, but Bill had an unnaturally strong hold for someone who seemed to lose three pints of blood each day.

“You wanna know...” Bill caressed Dipper’s cheek, apparently reveling in the frightened look in his eyes, “what it’s like to have your very being torn apart? What it’s like to have some  _stranger...”_ he leaned into Dipper’s ear and whispered, sending shivers through the boy’s body, “reach inside you and take everything you are for themselves…?”

“I...I...”

“And knowing...” Bill’s hands reached up under the hem of Dipper’s shirt, kneading the lithe chest underneath. His breath was hot and strangely sultry in Dipper’s ear, “that it could happen again...any time...any place...without so much as a warning? You wanna find out what that’s like... _pretty little Pine Tree_...?”

“B-Bill,” Dipper’s voice wavered and cracked, “you’ve made your point...”

Bill sat up on Dipper’s hips, removing his hands from under his shirt and placing them on Dipper’s shoulders.

“Did I? So then, smart guy, what’s the answer to your question?”

“It...it was as bad as he said.”

“ _Worse,_ ” Bill snarled, his expression suddenly steely, “worse than you could ever imagine...and it’s  _your fault_ for not stopping them. I asked you nicely, I told you everything I knew!” his eye flashed red, dangerous, “and now, because you couldn’t do this ONE THING--” his voice gained its usual echo for only a moment, “-I’ve been locked up and tormented and had _everything_ taken from me! I can fucking _show you_ what that’s like, Pine Tree!”

His fingers dug into Dipper’s shoulders hard, and Dipper realized he had to pacify Bill somehow or things were going to get worse, quickly.

“I’m sorry, okay! I didn’t...I mean, you have a history of lying!” the last part slipped out of his mouth. He mentally slapped himself in the forehead, sure that Bill's rage would grow and the demon would tear his arms out of their sockets. But, to his surprise, Bill’s grip on his shoulders loosened. His eye was yellow again, and his snarl was now more of an amused smirk.

“Not disagreeing with you there,” he lifted Dipper’s chin and leaned in close, “but I don’t want your apologies. An apology is just desperation in disguise. I want your help. Stanley and Fordsy can keep chasing that cult. They might even be able to find them. In the meantime, you’re gonna help me do some research here. There’s gotta be something that can break their hold on me or get me out of this body or  _something._  And you,” he prodded Dipper’s chest with his free hand, “are going to help me find it.”

“I...fine. Yes. I’ll help you..." he trailed off, wondering if a verbal agreement constituted one of Bill's infamous 'deals', "I’m going to regret this, aren’t I?”

“I don’t think so,” Bill answered, strangely sincere. 

“So...can you kind of, I don’t know, get off of me now that you’ve made your point?”

Bill studied him for a moment, then shook his head.

“Nah, I don’t think so. This is nice! You’re warm. I like it.”

“What! But--”

Bill flopped forward onto Dipper, laying heavily against him.

“Don’t push me off or I’ll eat your tongue,” Bill purred sweetly, and closed his eyes. He was asleep within seconds.

Dipper wasn’t sure Bill would follow up on his threat, but he didn’t want to take any chances.

* * *

 

In his dreams, Dipper wandered through nothingness. He caught brief glimpses of light playing far ahead of them, blue and gold against the black. Bill’s voice echoed in his skull.

N O 

N O N O N O N O N O

L e T M E g O

s T O P

And then Dipper came upon him; a bright light, kneeling and shivering in the darkness. The shape of a human, his body burning bright gold and featureless save for the binding marks standing stark black against the brilliant glowing skin. His eyes boiled blue. The voice reverberated around him. 

S t O P

L e T M E g O

Dipper bent and hugged the trembling featureless figure. And the glowing light that was Bill sighed soundlessly, leaning into Dipper's arms, his chest, his neck. Leaning into him so completely that Dipper felt this brilliant being was a part of him, absorbed into him.

p I N e T r E E

And he felt at peace. 


	7. The More You See

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bill has some surprises in store for Dipper.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally getting to some actual BillDip. Thanks again for all comments and kudos! I work hard to write these chapters as well as I can and as fast as I can, so it's really nice to see that hard work paying off! You are all beautiful butterflies and I love you. That's right, even YOU!

Dipper woke to the reds and yellows of a sun that had already risen past the horizon. Despite sleeping on a roof with a psychotic demon on top of him, Dipper was surprised to realize that night’s sleep was some of the best he’d gotten in ages.

Months, really.

Deep and mostly dreamless, his sleep had been so peaceful that he now struggled to come to grips with the fact that he was awake. That sense of all-prevailing calm was steadily washing away when faced with the waking world.

Had Bill eased his mind enough to grant him a good night’s sleep? Had his bizarre dream been real somehow, had he really comforted Bill in the demon’s torment? And was that his reward? He wanted to ask, but didn’t want to sound crazy.

Then again, crazy seemed to be something that Bill was fond of.

Bill wasn’t on top of him anymore. Dipper sat and saw that the demon was standing at the edge of the roof, hands on his hips, watching the red rays shine between dark trees.

“King of all the light touches, kid!” he exclaimed, glancing back at Dipper with a white grin. The sunlight torched his already bright hair, shone golden on his smooth skin...and Dipper realized with irrevocable alarm that Mabel had been right.

Bill was fucking gorgeous.

Dipper was too disturbed with himself for having that thought to answer Bill, who seemed to take his silence for confusion, and added, “that’s from The Lion King! Disney really shoulda stopped there, everything they’ve made afterwards has been garbage. Wanna go see the elephant graveyard?”

“Wha--” the boy barely had time to exclaim before Bill pulled Dipper up against him and jumped off the roof. Dipper screamed shrilly and they hit the ground hard, tumbling onto the grass in a heap.

“How do you deal with not floating?” Bill asked, but he didn’t seem too put out. He immediately hopped up and pulled Dipper up with him.

“Ow...my...everything...”

“Your everything will be fine, loser! Let’s go!”

He started off toward the woods at a rapid clip. Dipper sputtered and stumbled after him.

“Bill, wait! Where are you going? We can’t just leave! Mabel will wonder where we are!”

“Then I’ll go alone!” Bill called back, not slowing his stride. Dipper’s head jerked back and forth from Bill to the Shack, from the Shack to Bill. Mabel would be terrified if she found them missing, but he couldn’t just let Bill wander off alone. Who knew what kind of mischief he’d get up to? He didn’t trust Bill not to murder someone and wear their head as a hat if left to his own devices.

“Fuck!” he finally said loudly, angrily consenting to follow Bill through the tall trees.

“Ooh, _language,_ Pine Tree!” Bill said, amused.

“I hate you,” Dipper snapped in return.

“No you doooon’t...” the demon answered in singsong.

“Where exactly are we going, anyway?”

“I thought you were supposed to be smart, kid.”

“I am smart! Smart enough, at least...and stop calling me kid, I’m almost seventeen.”

“Seventeen years isn’t even the _beginnings_ of a blink on the cosmic scale. Or the geological scale, for that matter! It’s cute that you think your existence matters, though!”

“We can’t all be ageless interdimensional entitites,” Dipper kicked a pinecone toward Bill’s head. It missed, predictably, and Bill seemed nonplussed, “besides, you’re stuck in our world now. You should learn how to live by our rules.”

“I won’t be stuck for long. Besides, human ‘rules’ are stupid. You guys trapped yourselves in a prison of manufactured reality created by your own desperate need to assign guidelines to the world, and now you’re too dumb and lazy to see your way out of it! You should really take some DMT sometime.”

“Are you advocating drug use?” Dipper asked with a raised brow.

“Kid, I am _always_ advocating drug use! Maybe something like that would loosen you up. You’re so...rigid, Pine Tree,” he poked Dipper in the side of the neck and he flinched, “a stiff tree will get uprooted in the wind. It’s the ones that bend that stay standing after storms.”

“You’re full of advice today,” he rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, and your life would be about a billion times better if you took it.”

Dipper didn’t answer. Instead he grumpily followed the demon, noting the odd, jerky way that he walked. Either he still wasn’t used to human locomotion or the wounds on his bare feet were bothering him. Dipper made a mental note to find Bill some shoes.

He frowned at himself. Why did he care if Bill had shoes or not?

His thoughts were interrupted by a loud voice in his ear.

“We’re here!”

They had arrived in the clearing where Bill’s statue sat, arm outstretched. A bird that had been perching on it flew off at their approach.

“Fucking birds,” Bill muttered and knelt down in front of the statue, inspecting it. Dipper stood beside him, arms crossed.

“What do you hope to accomplish with this?”

“Dunno yet,” Bill said and placed a hand on the, smoothing the stone surface fondly, “but this is all that’s left of my physical form. My true physical form, not this,” he gestured to himself with this other hand, “sad, gut-filled meatsack.”

Bill studied the statue quietly after that, and Dipper studied Bill in turn. It was an odd scene, seeing Bill in the form of a human, so close to a representation of what, at least physically, he used to be. Bill walked around the statue, hands behind his back, looking down at it, silent and scrutinizing. He brushed some leaf litter off triangle’s sides. Then he looked toward Dipper with a gleam in his eye.

“Shake my hand.”

“What? Your hand or the statue’s hand?”

“They’re both me,” Bill huffed impatiently, but he gestured toward the statue, “that one.”

“No way, man! Shaking your hand has never led to anything good!”

“Why would you ask if you should shake my hand or the statue’s hand if you were going to refuse anyway?” Bill snapped.

“I don’t know, I was curious!”

“Curiosity killed the Pine Tree.”

“That’s not how--”

“Shake it!!” Bill demanded, stepping forward, “you said you would help me!”

Dipper paused. He couldn’t argue with that. He _had_ told Bill he would help him, and if shaking the statue’s hand constituted helping...he sighed and stepped forward. He stretched out his hand, it hovered over the small fingers of the statue uncertainly.

Bill rolled his eye and laid his hand over Dipper’s, pressing Dipper’s palm into the statue. Dipper thought he felt a small jolt of electricity, but Bill didn’t seem to notice anything.

They stood like that for a moment, Dipper’s hesitant hand sandwiched between Bill’s. One, tiny and three-fingered and made of stone, the other warm, soft...he could feel Bill breathing beside him, the rise and fall of his chest, his messy mop of golden hair tickling Dipper’s face as he leaned in to inspect the statue.

“Nothing,” Bill sighed and removed his hand from Dipper’s. He instead rested it on the flat part of the top hat, gently scratching some moss away.

“What were you expecting to happen?” Dipper asked, dropping his arm back to his side.

“Not sure.”

Bill leaned down again and looked the statue in the eye. Dipper couldn’t tell if he was just being theatrical, but the demon looked positively heartbroken.

“You handsome son of a gun,” Bill said and patted the statue on its side, “what happened to you?”

Dipper let Bill brood over the statue for a good five minutes before the silence got to be too uncomfortable. As annoying as Bill’s voice was and as disturbing as his choice of conversation could be, his silence was infinitely worse.

“So uh...if you were around before humans, did you like, invent top hats and bow ties, or…?”

Bill snorted, but Dipper was relieved to see a smile on the demon’s face.

“Let’s just say you loser humans couldn’t come up with something that snazzy on your own!” he put a hand to his head and the other to his neck and frowned, “I miss them.”

“Maybe if you’re good we can find you a bowtie,” Dipper said offhandedly. Bill was suddenly in front of him, looking excited and maybe a little depraved.

“What does ‘being good’ mean in human standards?”

“Not being creepy like you are right now,” Dipper answered, placing his hands on Bill’s chest to push him away. Bill laughed and, to his own surprise, Dipper joined him, chuckling, “where’d you get that shirt from anyway?”

“Shooting Star. She tried to get the blood out of the shirt you guys put on me back at the museum, but it was still stained a little, I guess. So she dyed it yellow for me. She’s weird. I like her,” he hooked his elbow around Dipper’s neck and pulled him close, smirking, “but I like you too, so don’t get all jealous.”

“I wasn’t--!”

“Now, Pine Tree--” Bill began to admonish, then tilted his head a little and looked over his shoulder toward the forest. He was silent for a moment.

“Hey, kid? You got any weapons on you?”

“What? No, but I probably should since I’m hanging around you. Why?”

“In that case, we may want to run.”

“Run?” Dipper asked, confused.

A tremor cut through the ground. A shrill roar, primal and terrifying, sounded through the forest, sending flocks of birds wheeling into the sky.

“Run,” Bill nodded and grabbed Dipper’s hand, and before Dipper could vocalize his displeasure, Bill took off like a shot, dragging the boy with him. And just in time, it seemed. Something enormous stomped through the forest behind them. The trees groaned as they were felled, creaked as something huge stepped on them and snapped them in half. Dipper glanced back, but all he could see were the thick falling trees and animals fleeing in terror.

Dipper and Bill fled through the forest as the thing pounded after them, screeching its displeasure.

“What is that?!” Dipper screamed, a hand on his head to keep his hat from flying off.

“Wendigo!” Bill answered, jumping over a log, “big one!”

“What does it want?!”

“Just to eat us, probably!”

“ _Just_ to eat us?!” Dipper exclaimed, then gasped as they narrowly avoided being squashed flat by a falling tree, “it’s getting closer!”

Dipper hazarded a second glance behind him, but he only saw a glimpse of the creature through the crashing trees. Impressions of a cracked white face, tangled antlers whose tips reached past the treetops, and two black, endless eyes.

“Bill!” Dipper panted, squeezing his eyes shut tightly as he felt a familiar cramp in his side. Physical activity still wasn’t his thing, “can’t you stop it?”

“Powers bound, remember? But I can try something. This way!”

He pulled Dipper to the side, toward where the trees thinned and the forest floor sloped heavily about thirty feet below.

“We need more cover than this!”

“Trust me!” Bill answered. Dipper was about to answer that it would take a goddamn miracle to get him to trust Bill, when the demon flung him over the side of the slope. Dipper went tumbling through the vines and sticks and leaf litter, arms against his face to protect himself. He landed in a pile on the slope bottom, and his first dazed thought was that Bill had meant to kill him.

But he looked up, and Bill was standing at the top of the precipice, his back toward Dipper as the wendigo approached.

It towered over Bill, who suddenly seemed painfully small. The thing looked vaguely like if an emaciated giant, a rabid wolf and a mangy deer had a threesome and managed to produce offspring. Its head seemed a facsimile of a fanged deer skull, twisted and gnarled with antlers, a sick skull grin under blank black eyes. It planted itself firmly on the forest floor on six muscular legs. Thick tendrils of saliva dripped from its bare canines.

Bill backed up as far as he could go without falling over the ledge. He held up a hand to the creature and Dipper could hear him reciting an incantation, some sort of spell, at the thing. The wendigo howled, seemingly in pain, raising four of its limbs int the air like a rearing horse, slashing at the air with its paws. Bill continued his intonations, and whatever he was doing seemed to be working. The wendigo took a step back, shaking its massive skull head in agony.

Then the beast lifted a giant paw, as big as a golf cart, and swung it into Bill with an incredible force, sending the demon careening over the side of the slope, over the tops of the trees. Dipper heard a faint yelp and a crash in the distance behind him.

Terrified, his eyes never left the wendigo. But the creature just let out a battered sigh that shook the trees and it turned, its haunches still twitching in pain, and lumbered slowly and laboriously away.

Dipper sat among the fallen leaves in amazement.

Bill had saved his life. He’d pushed Dipper down the slope on purpose and done. _..something_ to the beast to get it to go away.

He stood, shakily, noting the bloody scratches on his arms and a particularly bad gash on his thigh that was staining his dark shorts darker with blood. Wincing, he limped toward where Bill had been thrown. He was hesitant to call Bill’s name, to make any noise, for fear that the creature may return.

“Bill,” he hissed softly, dark eyes searching the ground before him, “Bill, where are you?”

At last he found the demon, crumpled in a heap at the base of a thick tree.

Dipper knelt down to him, shook his shoulder gently.

“Bill?”

He didn’t rouse. Dipper leaned forward and pressed his ear to Bill’s chest, hearing the steady heartbeat and feeling his chest move as he breathed.

Alive, as always, but down for the count.

Dipper groaned. They were likely a long way from the Shack. Bill wasn’t waking up any time soon, and he himself was already feeling woozy. The gash on his leg was bleeding more heavily than he thought.

“Hello?” he asked the forest around him, not expecting an answer, “can anyone help…?”

And then he saw a small, familiar face peeking out from one of the trees.

“Who...Jeff! Jeff, it’s you! Come here, please? We need help!”

The gnome stepped out and approached Dipper, followed by a small pack of his kin.

“Don’t get all excited, guy,” Jeff crossed his arms as he gave Dipper a scrutinizing glance, “we’re not here for you, we’re here for this beautiful girl.”

“Wha?” Dipper watched as the gnomes gathered around Bill, pawing at him with whispers of _“queen”, “beautiful”, “girl”._

“Guys,” Dipper groaned, “I really thought you were over kidnapping people to be your queen. Besides, that’s not a girl. He’s a boy.”

“Wha—really?” Jeff asked, alarmed, before stroking Bill’s golden locks, “but such soft hair! Maybe we take him anyway? I mean, there’s no reason why the Queen _has_ to be female, right?”

The pack of gnomes nodded and squealed their approval. Dipper shook his head, quickly stopping when he felt close to passing out.

“You don’t want him, trust me. This is Bill Cipher in a human body. Remember Bill?”

The gnomes began to whisper among one another, their eyes wide. Jeff lifted Bill’s eyelid and immediately jumped back at the sight of the slitted pupil.

“Holy toledo! What the—okay guys, change of plans! We’re not gonna kidnap him, we’re gonna set him on fire. Repeat, we are going to set him on fire. Carson, get the burn sticks. The _good_ ones, this time, I don’t want a repeat of last month’s deer roast fiasco. I’m looking at you, Steve.”

Dipper snatched up Carson before he could walk away and set him back down near Jeff.

“Guys no! He’s fine, he’s harmless right now. Besides, he just saved my life. He’s...really not all that bad...”

“Listen buddy,” Jeff pointed a tiny, chubby finger at Dipper, “if you wanna hang out with a _demon,_ that’s all on you. But if our lives get ruined by him again, we’re gonna have to find you and...I dunno, burrow into your intestines or something? Can...can we do that?” he looked at his fellows for feedback. They shrugged.

“I can...make sure he doesn’t do anything to you,” Dipper lied, “but first I have to get him back to the Mystery Shack. I’m hurt and I don’t think I can carry him. If you get us back to the Shack, I’ll make sure he never bothers any gnome-kind ever again.”

“Huh,” Jeff scratched his beard, “that sounds like a completely honest and totally trustworthy thing to say! All right, we’ll help.”

Jeff whistled and pointed towards Bill and Dipper. A hundred more gnomes, running on all fours, streamed out from between the trees. They lifted Bill and Dipper up and, at a steady pace, began carrying them through the woods.

Dipper lay on his back as dozens of little hands carried him. His vision swam in and out as he watched the trees moving above and heard the chatter of the little creatures below.

And then the world turned into a pinpoint of light and he was out.

* * *

 

“I USED TO THINK that WENDIGOS were FUNNY. NOW they’re just KIND OF ANNOYING.”

Dipper opened his eyes wide at that strange, resounding voice. He was floating in darkness. Vague gray shapes materialized in and out of his sight, thin and brief flashes of the outside of the Mystery Shack, Grunkle Stan’s favorite chair, the attic…

And before him was Bill, his old triangular self.

“Wha...where are we…?” he asked in dazed confusion. Bill tapped the area above his bowtie thoughtfully.

“YOUR MINDSCAPE, I THINK,” he said, but he sounded unsure, “but you’re NOT ASLEEP, you’re UNCONSCIOUS. And SO IS MY FLESHY MEAT BODY, FOR THAT MATTER.”

“How are you able to appear in the Mindscape like this? I thought you weren’t able to with your powers bound.”

“MAYBE that STATUE did SOMETHING AFTER ALL,” Bill shrugged, but seemed more miffed than excited, “you KNOW, it’s REALLY ANNOYING not having INSTANT ACCESS TO ALL THE KNOWLEDGE OF THE UNIVERSE. Not knowing stuff IMMEDIATELY is THE WORST!”

“That’s how I feel when I can’t get any wifi,” Dipper admitted and looked down at himself. He didn’t look any worse for wear here, but he figured that would be a different case in the real world, “I’m going to be so sore when I wake up.”

“YOU’LL get OVER IT,” Bill said dismissively. He floated back and forth in what Dipper could only assume was the Bill Cipher version of pacing, his hands behind his back.

“What did you do to that thing?” he asked. Bill waved a hand.

“Old ALGONQUIN chants designed to WARD AWAY DARK SPIRITS. My POWERS may be MOSTLY INACCESSIBLE but ANCIENT WORDS usually have a POWER ALL THEIR OWN.”

“...you saved me from the wendigo. Why?”

“Why NOT?”

“Can’t you just give me a serious answer for once?” Dipper crossed his arms. Bill stopped his pacing and looked at Dipper, and Dipper knew that if he had a mouth, he’d be grinning.

“You’re so CUTE when you STAND UP FOR YOURSELF, Pine Tree! Here’s your SERIOUS ANSWER; like I’ve SAID BEFORE, I LIKE YOU, KID. And WENDIGOS don’t SCARE ME. They’re just like, HANGRY all the time. RIGHT? That’s A THING YOU KIDS SAY? HANGRY? HUNGRY-ANGRY?”

“Yeah, that’s...I guess. Sure. But you put yourself in danger for me.”

Bill rolled his eye.

“ _YOU_ are a FRAGILE LITTLE LARVAE. You would have NEVER SURVIVED an ATTACK from SOMETHING LIKE THAT.”

“I know, but that’s not the point! Why would _you_ put yourself in harm’s way for _me_?”

“HOW MANY TIMES can I ANSWER that QUESTION before you’re SATISFIED, KID?” Bill floated up to Dipper’s eye level, hands to his sides.

“I mean, I understand your answer. I just don’t...you tried to kill me and my family when I was twelve. You almost ruined my life twice before that. Why are you being so...I don’t know...nice?”

Bill shone gold in amusement, his eye crinkled. He patted Dipper on the head with his tiny hand.

“You jerks were STANDING IN MY WAY all those times BEFORE. NOW YOU’RE NOT. There’s NO REASON to HURT YOU. Let me PUT IT THIS WAY. You GO ON A PICNIC and there’s a BUNCH OF ANNOYING ANTS ALL OVER your FOOD. So, naturally, YOU TRY TO ELIMINATE THEM! Later, you go on ANOTHER PICNIC and the ants are MINDING THEIR OWN BUSINESS and not TOUCHING your STUFF. SO, you let THEM BE, GOT IT?”

“I don’t like being compared to an ant,” Dipper answered sullenly, but felt a little better about the whole situation. Bill chuckled and playfully pulled Dipper’s hat down over his eyes.

“YOU HUMANS have MIGHTY HIGH OPINIONS OF YOURSELVES!”

Dipper lifted his hat to retort, just in time to see that the shapes around him, including Bill, begin to blur. He could hear Bill saying something, faintly, far away...and then it was all gone.

He opened his eyes again and was greeted with Mabel’s worried face hovering over him.

“Dipper! You’re awake! Thank goodness!”

Dipper groaned as he felt pain up and down his body. He sat and, rubbing his head, looked around him. He was on the couch in the Shack, iodine slathered over his arms and the gash on his leg wrapped tightly with gauze.

“Uggh...Mabel...the gnomes got us back okay…?”

“Yeah,” Mabel looked a little displeased, “and okay, those guys are as freaky as ever! They brought you to me then gushed about how beautiful I am, which, I mean, is true. Then they tried to kidnap me again. I had to threaten them with the leafblower before they scattered.”

“Sorry, Mabel...” Dipper swung his legs around the couch to sit up, wincing at the pain, “it was the only way I could think of to get back. Where’s Bill?”

She gestured to the center of the room, where Bill lay on the floor with a pillow under his head and a blanket on top of him, still out.

“You gonna tell me what happened?”

“Ugh...Bill dragged me out to the forest to look at that stupid statue of him, then we were attacked by a wendigo. We were running and...okay, this is the weird part...which is strange to say, because you’d think the weird part would be getting attacked by a wendigo, but--”

“Dipper. Get back on track, bro.”

“Right, sorry. Bill pushed me down a cliff to save me and then said a spell or something that hurt the wendigo. It threw him a hundred feet into the forest, but then it left. He saved me, Mabel.”

“I’m not surprised,” Mabel shrugged. Dipper gave her a look, his eyebrow raised, and she shrugged again, “well, I’m not! I think he likes us. And how could he not? We’re delightful.”

She pressed her fingers against Dipper’s cheeks and he swatted her hands away. He stood shakily and looked down at Bill.

He looked so peaceful, so normal. It was hard to associate this Bill with the one-eyed triangle he had seen what seemed like only minutes ago in his unconscious state.

He spent the rest of the day nursing his wounds and checking up on Bill.

When it was sundown and Bill still hadn’t woken, Dipper gave in to Mabel’s demands that he take a bath.

He settled down into the hot, bubbly water and closed his eyes, sighting heavily, relaxing...and then the door burst open and Bill was suddenly standing above him.

Dipper screamed and flailed, snatching the towel from its holder and plunging it into the water to try and hide his nakedness.

“Sorry, Dipper!” Mabel yelled from somewhere outside, “tried to stop him!”

“She didn’t try very hard,” Bill whispered, leaning in close to Dipper, who shrunk back.

“Dude! You can’t just—this is private—bath—I’m naked!”

Bill snorted through his grin.

“Nothing I haven’t seen before. All-seeing eye, remember?” he pointed to his glowing yellow eye, “besides, I wanted to make sure my favorite Pine Tree wasn’t splintered.”

“This...this is still weird! Get out!!”

“Yeesh, kid!!” Bill held up his hands in defense, “fine! So concerned about preserving your perceived dignity!”

He gave Dipper another smirk before tromping out of the room, calling to Mabel.

“Hey Shooting Star, do we have any more bee vomit?”

“ _Yeah_ we do!!” Mabel called back excitedly. Dipper groaned and submerged his head beneath the water, wondering how long it would take him to drown.

* * *

It took him a couple of hours to work up the nerve to get out of the tub. By then, the water had already gone cold. He took a few minutes to reapply iodine to his arms and re-wrap the cut on his thigh. Then he donned his pajamas and plodded out into the living room.

“Mabel? Where’s Bill?”

“On the roof,” she answered, not looking up from her magazine, “he told me to tell you to meet him up there, he has something to show you.”

“Oh god,” Dipper shook his head, “no, that doesn’t sound good. First he barges in on me while I’m naked in the tub and now he wants to show me something? No! I don’t trust him!”

“He saved your life,” Mabel peeked out from over her magazine, “you could at least humor him. Besides, he only ate one handful of honey, so he shouldn’t be _too_ hyper.”

“Ugh. If I scream...”

“I’ll come running!” she nodded confidently.

Sighing, Dipper made his way to the ladder and climbed up it, lifting up the hatch to clamber onto the roof. Bill sat on the edge, looking up at the moon.

“Heya, Pine Tree,” he said, not turning.

“You seem to like the roof a lot,” Dipper answered, standing behind him.

“I like to be high up. The higher you are, the more you see. The more you see, the more you know. The more you know, the more power you possess! Word to the wise, kid, either grow ten feet or learn how to levitate. You’ll never see things the same again!”

“Well, those are impossible goals, so. Mabel said you had something to show me. Please don’t let it be a dead animal.”

“Ah-hahaha! But dead animals are so _funny_!”

“Not to normal people, Bill!”

“Pfft. _Normal,_ ” Bill rolled his eye, but then swept a hand out toward the forest, “ever heard of a mothman?”

“Wha--” Dipper sputtered, “ _a_ mothman? Not _the_ mothman? There’s more than one?!”

“Oh yeah,” Bill nodded enthusiastically, “a whole colony. But they’re pretty unsociable. More often than not, they live in seclusion on the other side of the country, but they migrate west in the summer.”

Bill stood and held out his hand to Dipper.

Dipper eyed it with hesitation. He noticed that the gauze was clean. Mabel must have changed it again while he and Bill were unconscious. That old stab of guilt came back , the memory of Bill being pinned to the floor with a dagger in each limb.

He put his hand into Bill’s, who grasped it tightly before scaling the roof higher and higher, pulling Dipper with him, until they stood at the tallest point. Still clutching Dipper’s hand, he pointed with his other toward the moon.

“Watch,” he said.

Dipper watched.

After a few moments, a dark mass appeared on the horizon, lit only by the moon’s cool light. The mob steadily got closer and closer, and it wasn’t long before Dipper could see a throng of large bodies, undulating through the sky, each with two luminous eyes like crimson lamps.

And soon they were fluttering right over Bill’s and Dipper’s heads.

A hundred or more man-sized moth creatures, with thick fuzzy bodies and strangely graceful wings quivered en masse against the radiant light of the moon. Their eyes, as big as car headlights and just as bright, shone red and unblinking through the darkness. Despite their numbers and their bulk, the creatures were completely silent.

Silvery dust wafted gently from their wings as they continued their pilgrimage overhead, filling the air with dancing glints of light, glimmering, shining down and all around the two observers below.

And it seemed just as quickly as they appeared, they were gone, had passed over the Shack and made their way deep into the woods beyond. Pearly particles still floated, lighter than air, falling toward earth so slowly that the movement could barely be seen.

Dipper was awestruck. He continued staring into the forest, captivated, until the last little glimmer of red eyes disappeared.

Bill looked at Dipper, grinning, that one gleaming eye bright with excitement. Dipper looked back, still so stunned he seemed unable to form words. Bill smirked then looked, content, back up at the sky, at the stars or the moon or maybe even something that Dipper himself could not see.

Dipper noticed Bill was still holding his hand tightly, had been this entire time.

He didn’t let go.

They stood on the roof and gazed up at the sky, hands linked, as the silver dust fell around them. 


	8. The Right Incentives

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bill takes a bath and rediscovers the wonders of alcohol. Not much research gets done.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 100 kudos!! Thanks, guys!!   
> Things finally start to heat up in this chapter (maybe literally!?) and also Bill curses a lot.  
> Liberal amounts of smut toward the end of this chapter. Liberal.

“Bill, you have to take a shower.”

The three of them sat around the kitchen table that morning as if it were the most normal thing in the world. It most definitely was _not_ the most normal thing in the world, but the Pines twins adapted quickly, and it seemed Bill did too. He looked up, vexed, from his oatmeal, this time cooked and in a bowl thanks to Dipper.

“Man, Bill,” Mabel laughed through a mouthful of sugar disguised as cereal, “if _Dipper_ is telling you to take a shower, it’s gotten really bad.”

“Hey! I clean myself! I took a bath just yesterday!”

“Oh yeah, when I saw you naked and you freaked out!” Bill added unhelpfully.

“You just did that because you had to, Dipper,” Mabel pointed out, “you were bloody and covered in leaves and twigs.”

“Well so is Bill!” he leaned forward and plucked a small stick out of Bill’s unruly hair to prove his point. Bill frowned.

“Hey, you can’t just go around taking my sticks. What if I liked that stick? What if that was my favorite stick? Don’t take my fucking sticks.”

“You don’t care about the sticks. Will you please just take a shower today?”

“Yeesh,” Bill smirked above a spoonful of oatmeal, “believe it or not, kid, I highly believe in personal hygiene! No one wants to make a deal with some slob with syrup on his shirt,” he nodded loftily at Dipper’s already-stained shirt, “I was gonna get clean today whether you asked me to or not. These clothes also need washing. I dunno which one of you losers handles that.”

“This loser,” Mabel pointed to herself, “because some other loser refuses to.”

“I told you, I’m too busy to do laundry!”

“Too busy being stupid!”

The twins continued to bicker back and forth, with Bill seeming content to eat and watch the show.

“You two haven’t changed at all,” he remarked as he finished the last of his oatmeal, “I like that. Makes it almost feel like I never died at all.”

“Is it really dying if you come back?” Mabel asked as she started gathering up the dirty dishes. She elbowed Dipper in the side to get him to help and he grumpily acquiesced.

“And we’ve changed! We’ve grown. We’re almost adults,” he added.

“Yes, it’s still really dying if you come back, because it was painful and fucking annoying and I’ll get my revenge someday, and no, you haven’t changed, you’re still human larvae with the same personalities. You just happen to be taller. And sexually active. I mean, one of you is probably sexually active, the other one, well, I highly doubt.”

He leaned in close to Mabel and whispered loudly, “I’m talking about your brother.”

Mabel burst out laughing.

“You’re not wrong there!”

"Dude!!! Bill!! You can’t just—Mabel, stop laughing, it’s not funny!” Dipper’s face turned an intense shade of crimson as he sputtered.

“S-sorry, Dipper,” Mabel wiped a tear from her eye and Bill stood smugly beside her with his hands on his hips, smiling that infuriating smile, “but, I mean, you do kind of have bad luck with the ladies. And the guys. And anything in between.”

“I’m coming into my stride!”

“Yeah, if your stride is being alone forever!” Bill laughed, then he and Mabel high-fived like fraternity buddies. Dipper couldn’t believe his eyes.

“Are you telling me that you two are getting along so well now that you can relentlessly make fun of me and then high-five about it!?”

“Well normally I make fun of you with Grunkle Stan, but he’s not here, so...” Mabel shrugged.

“And I’ve always made fun of you to your dumb face, so I don’t have to give you an excuse. I’m gonna go clean myself now!”

“Ugh...” Dipper rolled his eyes, “okay, fine, yes, please do that. Anything to make this stop. Let’s get you a towel and stuff...”

Mabel and Dipper were quick to gather up all the supplies Bill would need for his shower. They all three stood in front of the bathroom door, and Dipper thrust a towel and washcloth into his arms. Mabel followed with a fresh pair of clothes.

“Okay so, you’re going to need this towel to dry off with. The washcloth is what you use to scrub yourself down with. Use lots of soap! It’s already in there. And shampoo, that goes in your hair.”

“And here are some clean clothes for you to put on while I’m washing yours. They’re Dipper’s, so they might be a little big, but they’ll do for a couple of hours. Oh, and brush your hair before it dries or else it might stick up weird!”

“Also, don’t forget, after you scrub yourself down the soap, wash it off. Same with the shampoo. You don’t want--”

“Hey losers,” Bill interrupted, “this is _fascinating_ and all, but I already fucking know how to take a shower.”

Dipper and Mabel looked at him awkwardly.

“Oh...”

“We just thought...”

“You know. No physical body--”

“--you wouldn’t have had to shower before, so--”

“--easy mistake--”

“Triangles just aren’t known to bathe--”

“I’ve been watching humans since before you could rub two sticks together to make fire,” Bill smirked, “I know how you bathe yourselves. Or how you _don’t_ bathe yourselves, in Dipper’s case.”

“Hey man, not cool!” Dipper exclaimed as Mabel nearly bust a gut laughing.

“Just telling you your explanations are useless, as usual. I mean, I _am_ the one who showed your species how to make soap. Thanks for the clothes though, I guess.”

Bill retreated into the bathroom and slammed the door in their faces.

The twins stood in front of it for a moment, dumbfounded, but then Mabel shrugged easily and headed back into the kitchen. Dipper followed, a hand to his chin. He sat at the kitchen table, thinking, as Mabel moved busily about the room. It seemed for a long time, there were only the sounds of clinking dishes and Mabel’s humming and his own strange thoughts.

“...hey Mabel?” he finally asked as his sister began to load the dishwasher.

“Yep?”

“Bill’s been around for a long time, right?”

“I mean, I guess so. That’s what he says. Why are you asking me?”

“I just...I think it’s just now hitting me how old he is. How much he _knows._ Last night, he asked me up on the roof because a flock of mothmen were passing by and he wanted me to see them. He knew they were coming, Mabel. He knew and he shared that with me. I bet no one else has ever seen anything like that...think of all the other things we could see because of him!”

“What’s so great about a bunch of men with moth wings? Were they hot?”

“If he’s been watching humanity for so long...” Dipper continued, ignoring her, “I mean, all the knowledge he must have! All the secrets! If we had access to that knowledge, we could rewrite the history books!”

“You still think the pyramids were built by aliens, huh?”

“Not aliens,” Dipper scoffed, “sentient self-pouring concrete.”

“That doesn’t seem likely.”

“Anyway...we have him here, Mabel. Here with us! He could teach us so many things! This is...actually kind of incredible!”

“And what makes you think he’s going to tell you all these secrets?” Mabel shut the dishwasher door and leaned against it, arms crossed.

“I mean, we’re letting him stay here. It’s kinda the least he could do.”

“Yeaaah,” Mabel knelt down and patted Waddles on the head, “but he also blames you for him getting trapped in a human body. I don’t think he’s gonna share the secrets of the universe with you, bro.”

“What?” Dipper asked, alarmed, “did he say he blamed me? He told you that? I mean, he told me that, but I didn’t know he had said something to you...”

“Dipper, he basically told us that right after he became human,” Mabel rolled his eyes, “you have a terrible memory. But yes, to answer your question, he’s mentioned it to me several times. He’s said ‘your brother owes me’ more times than I can count.”

He sat, brooding, his arms crossed. He thought back to that first night on the roof, when Bill had pinned him and the fury in his eye had been nearly palpable. He sighed.

“I already feel guilty about it, which I _shouldn’t_ , by the way, because he’s evil.”

“And he also saved your life yesterday, so that’s another point for him not owing you anything...”

“Mabel! Are you really taking Bill’s side? _Really_? First you high-five him, and now this?”

“I’m always on your side, Dipper!” she exclaimed and stepped forward, putting a hand on his shoulder, “but Bill’s just not gonna let you know all his secrets. He won’t give you anything unless he thinks you have something to offer.. Don’t stress over it! Let’s just try to relax! Human Bill is actually pretty manageable, which is weird, and we should try and keep it that way as long as we can.”

“I guess...”

They remained in thoughtful silence for a minute before Bill’s voice rang through the house.

“Pine Tree!!”

Dipper and Mabel looked at each other.

“Go on,” Mabel said.

“You go,” Dipper said at the same time. They continued staring intently at one another.

“He called _you_ , Dipper!”

“But you’re so good at helping people--”

“I’ve already dressed him and I’m the one to rebandage his wounds every time--”

“Then you won’t mind seeing him naked again--”

“He doesn’t have anything you haven’t already seen all your life!”

“But it’s Bill--”

“Pine Treeeeeeee!” came the insistent call again. Mabel smirked and Dipper groaned, standing.

“ _Fuck._ Fine. But if I scream--”

“I’ll come running!” Mabel answered confidently in that now-familiar mantra. Dipper groaned to himself, shoved his hands into his pockets, and haltingly approached the bathroom door.

“...what…?” he asked, hesitant.

“Get in here, kid!” Bill’s voice commanded loudly from the other side.

“I don’t really--”

“You’re lucky that time isn’t really an issue with me, because right now you’re wasting a whole damn lot of it.”

The door opened, and before Dipper could react, Bill had grabbed him by the collar, pulled him inside, and shut the door again. Bill was, unsurprisingly, stark naked and absolutely dripping wet, obviously not having bothered with a towel at all. Dipper immediately turned around to face the door, blushing furiously.

“Bill, you can’t just--!! We talked about this!! Put some clothes on, or a towel or something!!”

“Man, that Garden of Eden myth really fucked you humans up. You know other animals are naked all the time, right?”

“We...we’ve evolved beyond--”

“No you haven’t,” Bill’s voice was in his ear. He could feel the demon standing behind him, heat from the recent shower radiating off of him, “you guys have evolved enough to come up with bigger and better ways of killing each other, which is hilarious, but that’s about it. Clothes aren’t important unless you wanna look cool.”

“W...why did you call me in here?”

“Relax, Pine Tree, I just wanted you to take a picture for me. You’ve got your phone, right?”

“Yeesss….?” Dipper said with painful unwillingness, his body tense. Bill chuckled behind him.

“Relax, kid, I just want a picture of my back.”

At that, Dipper arched an eyebrow and turned to look at him skeptically.

“Your back?”

“You got it, hot stuff,” Bill teased and Dipper blushed even more, “I’ve been studying these binding marks. But obviously, I can’t see behind me. At least not anymore! So, that’s where you come in.”

“Tried looking in the mirror?”

“I’m not that limber, kid.”

“I thought Grunkle Ford had some pictures--”

Dipper immediately realized that was the wrong thing to say. Bill frowned and crossed his arms in front of his chest.

“You mean the ones _you_ took when I was bound and helpless? Yeah, I know. I already looked for them. I think Fordsy took them with him on his little mission. It makes sense, he might need the symbols as a reference when tracking down this cult. Or maybe he just wanted a nice little pinup of me shackled and tortured with tape over my mouth.”

“I’m pretty sure it’s the first one.”

“You’d be surprised,” Bill huffed in response, “well whatever, point is, just take the fucking picture already.”

Dipper sighed and pulled his phone out of his vest pocket. Bill turned, exposing his bare back to Dipper.

Several scratches marred the pale skin, as well as a couple of fairly nasty-looking bruises Dipper guessed were sustained when the wendigo had sent Bill crashing through the trees. But even against the injuries, the dark binding tattoos stood out well enough. Dipper snapped a few photos, all the while trying to avoid looking at Bill’s perfect bare ass.

He was unsuccessful.

“Here,” he muttered and handed his phone to Bill. He turned to take it and Dipper once again averted his eyes, stuffing his hands awkwardly into his pockets. Bill studied the picture on the phone for a while, eyebrows raised quizzically.

“Hm. Well, that’s interesting. I don’t know how or where they found these runes, but I’m gonna have to make sure no one finds them ever again.”

“And how are you gonna do that?”

“Step by step, Pine Tree,” Bill answered enigmatically and carelessly tossed Dipper’s phone over his shoulder and into the bathtub.

“Hey!!” Dipper scrambled to grab it, while Bill pulled on a clean pair of Dipper’s shorts, tugging at the loose waistband.

“We’re going back down into the basement today. I know Fordsy has some juicy information hidden down there somewhere, we’ve just gotta find it.”

“And I’m helping you again,” Dipper said flatly. Bill pulled his shirt on, his face emerging from the neck hole smirking.

“You said you’d help. No takesies backsies.”

“You sound like a child.”

“We’re all children of the stars. Or some poetic bullshit like that.”

“I still plan on helping you. But I was...kinda wondering something,” Dipper spoke slowly, plotting out his words carefully. Bill sat down on the edge of the tub, intrigued. His wet hair was plastered against his skin and drops of water still slid down his face every now and then, following the curve of his cheekbones, his jaw. Dipper suddenly felt very hot and very flustered.

“I uh...I mean, you know a lot of stuff, right?”

“If you’re asking me if I know how to get you a date, forget it. Even I don’t know that!”

“Oh my god. You suck,” he shot at Bill, who grinned, pleased with his joke, “no, I don’t care about that. I just...I don’t know, I was wondering if...while you’re here and we’re on decent terms, I guess, if you’d tell me some stuff? About the universe, about history. What happened to the Lost Colony at Roanoke? How did those skiers die at Dyatlov’s Pass? What caused the Tunguska Event? Was Benjamin Franklin really a woman? Stuff like that.”

“And what exactly do you plan on doing with all this information?” Bill asked, eyebrows raised.

“Nothing, I guess. I just want to know. There are so many mysteries, beyond Gravity Falls, beyond this country or even this world, and you...you know the answers to all of them.”

“Almost all,” Bill corrected, and Dipper couldn’t help but be surprised at the humility, “but yeah, I know lots of things. So...” he stood, hands behind his back, and began circling Dipper, “knowledge purely for the sake of knowledge, huh? Just to sate that curiosity?”

“Well, yeah,” Dipper shrugged, feeling more and more nervous as Bill’s cat-like eye didn’t leave him, “I can’t imagine what else I’d do with it.”

“Thirsty for answers,” he stopped in front of Dipper and smiled a half-smile, his expression appraising, impressed, “you and Sixer really are a lot alike, Pine Tree.”

“So you’ll tell me some stuff?”

“Ah-hahaha! Kid! I don’t just give out juicy nuggets of information like that for free!! People have given me everything from livestock sacrifices to their very souls just to know what the weather was gonna be like the next month! Economics 101, kid! You got something people want, you demand payment for it.”

“It’s not payment enough letting you stay here?”

“You’re not ‘letting’ me stay anywhere. I’m choosing to stay here whether you like it or not,” Bill smirked.

“Okay, how about this? Ford and Stan are gonna come back eventually. And they’re gonna want to lock you up again using that table. Mabel and I can convince them not to, if we have the right incentives.”

Dipper suddenly wondered if that was the right thing to say. In the course of a few seconds, Bill’s amused expression had turned to surprise, then panic, then anger. He narrowed his eyes at Dipper, whose heart thudded against his chest.

“You’re paying a dangerous game, kid...” he growled, approaching the boy threateningly. Dipper held his ground, used everything in his willpower to stare back unflinchingly into those furious eyes, one glowing hot and the other as black as an oil slick.

“I’m learning from the best,” he asserted, standing straight and desperately attempting not to tremble. Bill paused and, after a moment, the anger on his face seemed to slide off, replaced with a resigned calm.

“You think you’re real cute, huh? All right, Pine Tree. Let’s make a deal. You keep on helping me, and keep your crazy uncles from locking me up again when they get back...and every now and then I’ll give you a new piece of info to fill that little noggin of yours. Let’s start with this, just to show you I’m serious; the settlers of Roanoke all turned into seals and went away to live in the ocean.”

“...what? That doesn’t even make sense...how…?”

“Ah ah ah, that’s all you get until you agree.”

Bill held out his hand. Dipper nearly expected it to catch on fire, but of course, it didn’t. Dipper looked at it, and then finally noticed...Bill had undone his bandages for his shower. The wounds on his hands and feet looked unhealed, red, painful. His right hand in particular seemed especially maimed, with a large, scabbed hole covering a good third of his palm. Dipper wondered how Bill managed to even move his fingers with damage like that.

Gently, Dipper slid his hand into Bill’s and they shook. Still no fire, no tingle of electricity, no nothing. And Bill didn’t seem particularly happy, which gave Dipper confidence that this wasn’t a binding deal. No flames, no contract. Just words and honor.

“Selkies,” Bill finally said, “people who turn into seals. That part of the country is full of ‘em. Ugh. Gross. Anyway! I want you to gather up some of your nerd books, and we’re gonna go down to the basement again. You ready?”

Dipper never felt like he was ready. For anything.

Thirty minutes and some grumbling from Dipper later, and they were on their way down to the basement. He had gathered up some relevant books from the attic, then begged Mabel to come along with him.

“Grenda gets back today, and we never cleaned up the wreck we made of her house,” she explained, “if you don’t want her asking questions, I’m going to have to take care of it. Oh! And where’s that saber?”

Dipper had sorely told her, a little disappointed. He kind of wanted to keep the saber. Not to mention he was becoming a little disturbed at how easily Mabel left him alone with Bill. She clearly didn’t have the same reservations that he had...but then again, hadn’t Bill been alone with both of them separately for extended periods of time without anything bad happening?

And now he followed Bill, who ambled down the hallway and to the vending machine, humming softly as he went. Dipper followed sullenly, arms ladened with books, then nearly crashed into Bill as the demon did a double take.

“Whoa-ho! Jackpot!” he said excitedly. Dipper saw what had caught Bill’s eye; Grunkle Stan’s liquor cabinet. Bill was already fixing himself a cocktail before Dipper could process what was happening.

“Bill! What do you think you’re doing? You can’t do that!”

“Like I told you the other night, Pine Tree, there’s lots of stuff I can’t do at the moment, but--”

“This isn’t one of them, yeah, I know. But I don’t want to have to be the one to deal with you when you’re all fucked up!”

“I’m not gonna get ‘all fucked up’”, Bill smirked and took a long sip of his hastily prepared drink, “I’m able to feel the effects of alcohol while remaining completely, one hundred percent lucid at the same time. One of the benefits of being me! Besides, it’s tasty.”

“Maybe that’s the way it worked when you were still a demon, but you’re in a human body now, man. And I’m not going to be the one to take care of you when you get drunk.”

“Relax kid,” Bill rolled his eyes, “I’m not gonna get drunk.”

Twenty more minutes and a couple cocktails later, and Bill was drunk.

“This is different,” he admitted, grinning goofily as he set his recently finished glass on the table. They still hadn’t made it down to the basement. Bill seemed to think that a small distraction wasn’t much harm and had consumed with relish, all the while insisting that he couldn’t become inebriated.

“I knew this would happen. But you just had to do it, didn’t you?” Dipper sighed.

“For science,” Bill remarked seriously, looking so introspective that Dipper couldn’t help but laugh.

“Okay, well. I’m cutting you off. And I don’t think you’re in any state to do research--”

“I can still concentrate!” Bill insisted, “mostly! Besides, you can just read to me if I start not being able to focus. Read to me like a mama duck does to her ducklings.”

“Okay, well...ducks can’t read...so...”

“Let’s go!!”

Dipper followed Bill down into the basement, though he wasn’t really sure why anymore. He’d never particularly felt like he was in command of his own life, but the last few weeks had been utterly ridiculous. He felt like a marionette on a string, maybe not being controlled, per se, but certainly dragged along on the ground by some careless puppeteer.

He was surprised when Bill led him to Ford’s shrine room. He was even more surprised when he saw that everything was still there; all the old tapestries of Bill, the triangular prisms, the statues, the paintings.

“Grunkle Ford never got rid of these…?” he asked in wonder, setting his armfuls of books down. Everything was exactly the same, except the for the empty spot where the busted mind-reading computer once stood. It had likely been dismantled by Ford for parts. Bill looked fondly up at all the depictions of himself.

“Why would he? They’re so nice! We put a lot of work into these.”

“But, I mean...after the whole, ‘you torturing him and trying to murder us’ thing...”

“You never forget your first,” Bill said and picked up a golden idol of himself, studying it affectionately. Dipper was about to ask what he meant when Bill thrust the idol into his face, grinning wildly.

“Give it a kiss, kid!”

“What?! No!” Dipper shook his head away from the statue. Bill just laughed manically and advanced on him, his movements still rather slow and wobbly.

“Kiss iiittt!” he beamed and tried to press the statue against Dipper’s face. Dipper flailed away, trying to smack the statue out of Bill’s hands.

“No way! Stop it!” he backed himself to a corner and Bill took the opportunity to set the statue down (rather gingerly, Dipper noted) and come at Dipper anew, tickling him.

“Do it or else! I’ll give you body spasms till you can’t breathe! I could do this all day, kid!”

Dipper screamed and jerked and involuntarily kicked Bill in the leg, sending them both tumbling to the floor. In between involuntary laughter, he tried to push Bill away, mostly unsuccessfully. Bill was a wild, inebriated, flailing mess, laughing joyously as he succeeded in tickling the breath out of Dipper. Dipper finally, in a quick and sudden movement, succeeded in pinning him. He held Bill’s wrists firmly against the floor in order to protect himself from any further tickles.

“No more,” Dipper gasped, finally regaining his breath, “tickling gets...god...gets old. After a while it just hurts, man.”

Bill just tilted his head at Dipper and smirked.

“You’re lucky I’m not entirely sober, or I’d have made you body spasm yourself into oblivion.”

“That’s impossible,” Dipper scoffed, but then wondered if it really wasn’t. Bill was regarding him curiously, his smile faint. He blinked and Dipper’s heart skipped a beat at the sight of those amazingly thick, long eyelashes.

“Nothing is impossible,” Bill answered, and his voice was soft but confident. They gazed at each other. Dipper made to move, to unpin Bill, to get off of him, but something in Bill’s eyes...no, eye. The black one. It captivated him. He felt he could see entire galaxies swirling within it if he looked long enough, felt that it could show him the secrets of the universe, of time and space...all the mysteries he wanted answers to and more. Answers to secrets so lost to time that even the questions were unknown….Dipper felt a strange darkness spreading out from that eye, growing and enveloping him, safe and warm, wrapping him up and hiding him from the world. His body, his mind, felt like it was cloaked in a black cocoon...

Nothing mattered. There was only Bill beneath him, and Bill had so much to offer him, so much to give, if only he gave in...

“Pine Tree,” Bill said, and Dipper’s blood was hot at the sound of his voice, low and sensuous, “you make this body feel weird.”

Dipper gaped dumbly, staring down at the demon.

“I like it…” Bill admitted in an inviting murmur, shifting his hips up against Dipper’s.

A want that Dipper had never known coursed through him, wracked his body in a violent shudder. Bill was pure captivation, all gold and grins and that ever-dark eye, reaching, holding him, warm and safe and endless, promising to show him its secrets, promising to give him everything, if only…

p I N e T r E E

The voice in his head simultaneously lit him on fire and reminded him that none of this was normal. There was magic involved here, but Dipper felt so good he couldn’t bring himself to care much.

“Are you... seducing me…?” Dipper murmured softly, strained, staring unblinkingly into Bill’s eyes. It took every iota of willpower he had simply to form those words, “…with some...weird demon magic…?”

Bill raised his eyebrows in surprise and frowned deeply. The darkness that wrapped Dipper up seemed to retreat back into that oil slick eye, leaving Dipper’s head clearer, but his body no less alight. Bill remained silent, mulling the question over.

“Not on purpose,” he finally answered, looking honestly up at Dipper before slipping into an easy grin, “but I am a little drunk, so I may be doing that on accident. It's kind of a second nature to demons...and I’ve got no complaints if you don’t...”

Bill’s smile was charming and gorgeous and dangerous and Dipper _wanted it_. He wanted all of the entity beneath him, that beautiful angel face, golden and glowing, that sinful devil mouth, those weird, mismatched eyes.

Bill put his hand to Dipper’s cheek and ran it gently down to the boy’s neck, painfully soft. Dipper felt like every nerve was on fire. He closed his eyes and groaned. Bill leaned up to him, breath ghosting over his cheek before whispering hot and sultry in his ear.

“If you won’t kiss the statue...” he said breathlessly, leaving the sentence hanging heavy in the air. Dipper opened his eyes again and stared down at Bill.

Half-lidded eyes above that stunning smile.

He wanted all of it.

Dipper leaned forward until his lips were barely touching Bill’s. They breathed softly against one another for a moment, mouths open slightly...and Dipper closed the gap, crashing his lips against Bill’s, kissing him deeply. A pleasant jolt of electricity coursed through his body and he wanted more, wanted to bury himself into Bill, absorb him. Bill’s arms wrapped around Dipper, roaming over his back, to his hair, gripping it tightly as he moaned into the kiss.

In the back of his mind, Dipper knew this was fifty shades of fucked up. But it felt so, so good. And Bill was a surprisingly good kisser for someone who usually didn’t have a visible mouth.

But it was when Bill arched his hips up against Dipper’s that the boy lost all control, any kind of logical thinking he had possessed before. Their groins met and Dipper was on fire, he _needed more_ or he was going to burn and burn and burn until he was a shriveled, blackened cinder. He tangled his hands in Bill’s unruly blonde hair, slipped his tongue into Bill’s mouth, pressed their hips together again.

Bill made a noise of pure animal pleasure that sent more liquid heat through Dipper’s body. Vaguely, Dipper thought that it wasn’t a surprise that Bill would want to make out in a room full of likenesses of himself, egotistical bastard that he was. But that thought was buried deep in his mind. First and foremost was want.

He wanted Bill. _Needed Bill._

It wasn’t long before they were rocking against each other, all roaming limbs and breathy pants and deep kisses. They humped through their clothes and the pleasure was unlike anything Dipper had ever experienced before. It was so much better than anything else in the world, mind-shatteringly amazing, he would die if he stopped...and below him Bill groaned and moaned and made all sorts of loud, delicious noises that sounded so absolutely sinful coming from his mouth, so weird and wonderful in his voice.

The fervor of their movements increased, Dipper rutting against Bill hard, driving him into the floor and Bill, never one to stay in one place for long, wriggling in pleasure under him, hands everywhere, panting and moaning like a whore when Dipper’s mouth wasn’t on his. He looked down at the demon with hazed, unfocused eyes, and saw Bill’s face screwed up in fantastic pleasure, flushed and panting and weak. The lights overhead popped one by one, the electric sockets in the wall sizzled, the room hummed with static energy that made the hair on Dipper’s arms stand on end.

Dipper couldn’t even scream when his orgasm hit him. It was a cataclysmic burst of pleasure, so intense he felt he could literally explode. He gripped Bill’s shoulders as he came in his pants, mouth open in a silent, drawn out cry. Bill thrashed below him, his movements crazed, desperate, before going rigid and giving a keening animal howl, ruined hands clutching the back of Dipper’s vest like small vices.

Dipper collapsed against Bill and they were unmoving in the now-dark room, riding out the aftershocks of their pleasure. Dipper felt wrecked in the best way possible. His body was limp and useless, Bill still weakly clutching at him as they gasped to regain their breath.

One of Bill’s hands roamed up Dipper’s neck to the back of his head, threading slow and gentle through the thick, sweat-dark hair. Dipper closed his eyes at the sensation, Bill’s fingertips still like fire on him.

“If there’s...one thing you humans got right...” Bill panted softly in his ear, “it’s this.”

He found Dipper’s mouth and they kissed again, lazy and deep, in the darkened room, surrounded by a hundred of Bill’s all-knowing eyes.


	9. Everything and Nothing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dipper is hit with the realization that he's been sexually active with a demon triangle, and thus swears like a pirate throughout. Side characters finally make an appearance! That's right, folks, they exist! Dipper tries to find out a little more about Bill.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is fluff in this chapter. So much fluff.  
> Thank you everyone who's reading/commenting/kudosing! You are all SUPERSTARS. If you feel so inclined, visit me at on tumblr under the same handle, hedgehogsquadgoals, to see some stupid sketches I've done for this fic, because I am just lame enough to illustrate my own fanfiction.

It took a good ten minutes of laying against one another, panting, learning to breathe again, before the tidal wave of their joint pleasure began to ebb. And with that receding tide, the realization of what had happened was slowly revealed. Bill seemed unconcerned, but panic was beginning to grip at Dipper, fast and hard. He sat, wincing against the stickiness in his pants, body still weak from its exertions, and put a hand to his head. His hat was gone, lost somewhere in the passion.

“Oh my god,” he groaned.

“Actually, it’s ‘oh my Bill’, you guys have been getting that wrong for a long time.”

Whatever kind of energy their vigorous session had released had blown out all the lights in the room. Now the sole source came from Bill’s eye, and its intense light was far too uncomfortably familiar to Dipper at the moment.

That one eye, slitted, glowing yellow through the darkness, watching, always watching. The evil eye, the poisoned eye, the cursed eye, all-knowing and wicked. The eye that had haunted his nightmares for years. It was in a human face now, a human face attached to a human neck attached to a human body that he had just dry humped so hard that his groin ached.

He felt a massive panic attack coming on.

“I can’t...oh my god...I can’t believe...”

He struggled to stand, but his legs, still weak from pleasure, refused to work.

“What’s your deal, kid?”

“What’s—what’s my deal?! I just...with _you_! We...that was...”

“Great?”

“Yes! But, no! You-- I hate you, Bill! I hate you and you’re a monster, a _demon,_ you’re evil and I just...I can’t believe this. My first time...”

“Technically, we didn’t have sex,” Bill pointed out, then after Dipper groaned, “we didn’t even take our clothes off! Do you really hate me?”

“Yes! I don’t know! I thought I did!”

“Why is this such a big deal? It’s all biology! The drive to procreate, et cetera, et cetera. You learn about that kinda stuff in school, right?”

“It’s not that simple!” Dipper snapped, “if anyone found out about this...if Mabel or Stan or Ford found out I did this with the person who tried to _kill_ us all...no, you’re not even a person! You’re a _fucking triangle_!!! I can’t—this isn’t right!”

He began to hyperventilate, locked in the familiar feeling of his chest constricting and his airways becoming blocked. His vision swam, from the panic attack or residual weakness from that mind-shattering orgasm, he didn’t know. His heart hurt, everything was closing in around him, the panic was taking hold...

Then there were warm arms around him and, somehow, the intense wave of anxiety and all its symptoms began to recede.

“You’ve got problems, kid,” Bill said against him. Dipper found that, although being in Bill’s arms should have been the very last thing he wanted, his heart rate was dropping, his breathing became more even again. The demon was holding him, comforting him, just as Dipper had in that bizarre dream.

“I fucking know I have fucking problems,” Dipper grumbled after a moment, “you know it’s all because of you, right? You think it’s so funny to mess with humans, to traumatize them, but that shit stays with us for all our lives... _all our lives_.”

“Do you really think I’m evil?”

“You don’t? I thought it was something you kinda took pride in.”

“Evil is relative. And if I’m so evil, why are you leaning against me?”

“Because I’m fucking exhausted,” Dipper answered tiredly, “and you’re doing something to calm me down. Some more demon magic or something. Like how you fucking _seduced_ me. I thought your powers were bound!”

“They are, but I can still do some small stuff. Innate demonic ability. And I didn’t seduce you, remember? I mean, I was at first, accidentally. But then I stopped. The rest was all you.”

“All us.”

"All us,” Bill admitted, and they sat in the silence and the darkness for a while.

“Bill, why? Why did you...want to do that? Why did you want _me_? You’re not that kind of demon, you’re not an incubus, and as far as I can tell, you’ve never been interested in human sexuality. Like, at all. So why…?”

“Like I said. You make this body feel weird...good, even! I was just doing what felt natural. And I _like_ you, Pine Tree! Why do you think I stick around you even though you’re always saying I ruined your life and accusing me of murder and calling me evil? And saying you hate me? Do you really hate me?” he asked that question again.

“I thought I did,” Dipper sighed, “and I can’t believe I’m going to say this, because it’s going to make your ego even bigger, but it’s kind of...nice being around you when you’re not being a creepy psychopath. You’re...I don’t know...” he trailed off, embarrassed, then abruptly tried to change the subject, “why do you care if I hate you?”

“It’s useful to know how the people you’re living with feel about you. Watch my back, so to speak. Shooting Star seems to like me.”

“Mabel likes everyone...don’t tell her about this. Please, don’t fucking tell her. This is already so fucked up, I don’t need my sister knowing.”

“I’ll just tell her you took advantage of me while I was drunk.”

“I’ll tell her that you _seduced_ me with demonic magic!”

“I thought you didn’t want her to know?”

Dipper didn’t need any light to know that Bill was smirking again. He sighed and buried his face into the crook of Bill’s neck, breathing deeply. He smelled like the forest, like cedar and honeysuckle, and the sweat of their combined pleasure.

“The lights blew out...” he mumbled against the soft skin of Bill’s neck. Bill chuckled and threaded his hands through Dipper’s hair.

“Sexual energy can be powerful stuff. Remember how I mentioned that cults would use orgies to draw power for their rituals? And with a supernatural entity on board, that strength is magnified by the hundreds.”

A sickening thought hit Dipper so hard and fast that it made his stomach churn.

“Did you do this to try and gain some power? To escape your bonds?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, kid,” Bill rolled his eye, “I can’t just sex myself out of this body, though that does sound like fun. It’d take more than that. Spells, sigils, magical artifacts...not a bad idea, though. The power gained from a virgin’s first time being penetrated can be pretty substantial, so don’t go to any nightclubs any time soon. I might be needing that.”

“What!?” Dipper pulled away from Bill, eyes wide in alarm. Bill grinned.

“Relax, I was kidding. You know, mostly.”

“You’re not gonna use me like some kid of sex toy for your...your arcane rituals, are you?! I won’t do it, Bill! I’ll fight you!! I’ll--”

Bill smacked Dipper across the cheek, much like Mabel tended to do when trying to calm Dipper down. Dipper guessed Bill had learned it from her in some manner or another. He put a hand to his cheek and looked into the glowing lamplight that was Bill’s eye. Bill seemed amused, if slightly exasperated.

“I told you to relax, didn’t I? I’m not planning on using you like ‘some kind of sex toy’. Though I would like to do this again sometime!” he stood fluidly and yanked Dipper up along with him.

“No, no no no no. No. Bill, no,” Dipper shook his head in time with each ‘no’, hands raised in defense, “we are not doing that again. It’s too weird. My family doesn’t even know I’m bi--”

“Yes they do.”

“--so I definitely don’t want them to know I humped Bill Ci—wait, what?”

“Oh yeah. Are you kidding me? Everyone knows! I saw that magazine under your bed. Just Us Boys, huh? You like your ladies redheaded but your guys blonde. Good news for me!”

“Wh-what? No...no one knows...not even Mabel!”

“Uh, especially Mabel. ‘Bill, your body is super cute. Dipper has a thing for blonde guys. Too bad you’re an evil triangle or he’d be super into you. Want a sugar packet?’” he said in a surprisingly good imitation of Mabel’s voice.

“What?! She said that!?”

“She said that.”

“How...but...wh...”

“Look, we can stand here all day till our pants are glued to our bodies, but then people will just ask more questions and we won’t get any work done. If you wanna hide this from Shooting Star, I suggest you start some laundry.”

Dipper gave a groan, a snarl, and a sigh all in quick succession. Bill was right, and that was frustrating.

After a lot of fumbling through the darkness with only Bill’s eye to light their way, they finally made it out of the study and ascended to the Shack. Dipper led Bill into the laundry room, where thankfully Bill’s clothes had already been cleaned and dried and Dipper had some fresh clothes (courtesy of Mabel) as well. Bill unapologetically stripped off his clothes in front of Dipper, who groaned and turned away.

“Do you have to? Really?”

“Maybe one day you’ll become more comfortable with yourself and this won’t bother you as much,” Bill replied, and Dipper could hear the smirk on his voice.

They redressed in their fresh clothes, and Bill seemed quite content to be back in his slacks and suspenders. Dipper testily shoved their soiled garments into the washing machine and turned it on. He shuffled into the kitchen and rifled through the cabinets for some food, less out of hunger and more out of not wanting to face the awkwardness of the situation. Bill just smiled and watched.

The front door slammed, signaling Mabel’s return home. Dipper immediately tried to be as casual as humanly possible. He leaned against the entryway to the kitchen, one leg crossed over the other, a hand behind his head, in a pose that he hoped said ‘everything is perfectly normal here, I totally didn’t just hump a triangle demon to orgasm’.

“Hey guys! I’m back. Obviously! I cleaned up all your gross blood, Bill. You really need to learn how to keep that stuff inside you. Dipper!” Mabel gasped, and Dipper went a little pale, beginning to panic that she, somehow, picked up on what had happened, “you look so casual and not freaked out! It’s a good look for you, bro-bro.”

“I...uh...oh thanks! Yep, that’s me! Super casual and not freaked out!”

“Most casual I’ve ever seen,” Bill snorted.

“Oh my gosh!” Mabel exclaimed, and grabbed one of Bill’s hands without hesitation. He looked at her in surprise, then down at his own hand, “these wounds just aren’t healing very well, Bill. I really wish I knew how to take care of them better...for now we gotta keep them wrapped, okay? I’ll go get the first aid kit again.”

She ran upstairs. As the pounding of her footsteps died down, Bill gazed from his own damaged palm to Dipper.

“They are kinda gross, man. I'm not even sure how you're able to move your fingers, the tendons are so jacked up,” Dipper said. Bill brought his brows together in an expression that told Dipper that that wasn’t exactly what his concern was.

“...why does she _care_ so much?” he asked softly. Dipper, though a little taken aback by the question, shrugged.

“I...that’s just Mabel. She cares.”

Bill continued looking at Dipper, his expression unreadable. 

“Do you?”

“Do I what?”

“Care. About me?”

Dipper was left stunned at that question. Luckily, Mabel bound back down the stairs at that moment, so he wasn’t forced to give an answer. Bill kept his introspective mood as Mabel moved from hand to hand, foot to foot, disinfecting and rewrapping the wounds.

“That should do for now. But if those don’t get any better...” she trailed off uncertainly.

“Uh, dudes?” a familiar voice called through the house. Soos peeked his head through the entrance to the gift shop, “we got uh...a little bit of a situation here, and I don’t really know what to do.”

“What is it, Soos?” Mabel asked curiously. The man stepped forward, dressed in his Mr. Mystery outfit, wringing his hands together nervously. Dipper glanced uncertainly back at Bill, but Soos didn’t seem to pay much mind to the demon, and Bill seemed more preoccupied with studying the T. rex skull that was still inexplicably being used as a side table.

“There’s uh, like these kids here, dudes. At the door. They were all ‘Mister, we want to come in, can we come in?’ and I was all ‘Dudes, you don’t have to ask’ and they were like ‘Can we come in?’ over and over again and then. Dudes. That’s when I noticed. These little hambones had like, pitch black eyes. Like, you know how,” Soos lifted up his eyelid for effect, “how regular eyes are like, white, and then like a colored ring around the pupil? These guys’ eyes are just all black. I was gonna let them in, but Melody was getting seriously weirded out. She said we should ask you two for advice, you guys know about weirdos and creeps, right?”

“Do we ever!” Mabel grinned and hooked an arm around Bill’s neck for emphasis. He grinned, pleased.

“Whoa! Just like that dude’s eye there!” Soos pointed to Bill’s dark eye, “black just like that! ...uh, who is this, anyway?”

“Don’t even worry about it, big guy!” Bill waved it off and Dipper cringed, steeling himself. Bill’s grating voice, his jarring yellow eye, it was all so recognizable. Especially for someone like Soos, who had wandered the wastelands of Bill’s destruction for days.

Sure enough, Soos reeled slightly at Bill’s voice, looked nervously into the yellow eye before his own eyes flitted to Mabel and Dipper, as if asking them silently if he was going crazy. Before Dipper could do anything, Bill spoke again.

“Kids, huh? Black eyes like this?” he pointed to his right eye, “want to be let in?”

“Uh...yeah, dude...” Soos answered, and they could practically see the gears in his mind struggling to turn.

“Got yourself a classic example of some BEK’s there, pudgy,” Bill said, picking lint off of his shirt. Mabel frowned.

“What’s a...Bee Ee Kay?”

“Black-eyed Kids,” Dipper answered, and Bill looked at him, impressed. The knowledge that he had impressed Bill, pleased him, nearly made him giddy, and that disturbed him, even through his pleasure. He had to focus to continue, “there’s been lots of reports of them over the years. Strange, pale kids in weird clothes that come up to your door, wanting to be let in to use the phone or something. They have pure black eyes and are supposed to evoke a feeling of supernatural dread or something. I’ve never seen any before, but...”

“Dude, they’re definitely evoking some kind of something in there. It’s freaking us out, and they’re just standing at the door, scaring all the customers away! If Mr. Pines finds out about this, he’s going to be so disappointed in me!”

“Aww don’t worry Soos,” Mabel patted the man’s beefy arm, “we’ll take care of them for you. Right guys?”

She turned to look at Dipper and Bill. Bill shrugged and Dipper rubbed the back of his head and made an “eh” noise.

“Guys! Come on!”

“I’ve never dealt with BEKs before, Mabel! They’re dangerous. You’re supposed to just run from them, but we don’t have anywhere to go, really...”

“We’ve fought worse,” Mabel grinned and walked past Soos and into the Gift Shop.

“She’s right,” Bill added, looking at Dipper as he spoke with a wicked, but somehow tantalizing, grin, “much worse.”

And he followed her.

Soos looked back at them, then at Dipper. A heavy silence hung between them.

“Hey uh...Dipper...” he began, but Dipper cut him off.

“We! ...should probably go help them. Right? Let’s go...”

He walked past Soos as well, following Bill and Mabel into the Gift Shop. He heard Soos shuffling behind him, following, and couldn’t help but feel guilty. Lots of guilt going around lately.

Melody was in the corner of the room, eyeing the door suspiciously. In her hand was a closed umbrella that she seemed to be ready to use as a weapon.

“They’re so weird,” she whispered as they walked past.

“Not as weird as Dipper’s internet search history!” Mabel responded joyfully.

“Mabel, you’re only allowed to use that joke like...once every five years. You’ve already maxed out your quota.”

“It is pretty creepy, though,” Bill said. He strode nonchalantly to the door and opened it. On the doorstep, sure enough, stood two children. Both around nine or ten, pale and tow-headed, dressed in old-looking coveralls. Set in their paper-white faces were eyes like black marbles. They stared blankly at Bill.

“...may we come in, mister?” the older-looking one asked.

“No you may not!” Mabel yelled before Bill could so much as open his mouth in response. She pointed toward the forest, “back from whence you came, demonic children!”

“You know,” Dipper added after a moment, peeking over Mabel’s shoulder at the stunned-looking children, “please.”

The Black-eyed Kids stared with rapt attention at Dipper and Mabel, their featureless eyes wide and their mouths gaping. Then, out of nowhere, the kids turned and ran, tearing with supernatural speed across the parking lot, screaming in terror.

Dipper, Mabel, Bill, Soos and Melody all gathered around the door, silent, stunned expressions on each of their faces, until the Black-eyed Kids seemed to evaporate from view.

Soos was the first to speak up.

“Whoa, uh...man, you guys really get results.”

Dipper and Mabel looked at each other in confusion. Dipper in particular certainly wasn’t expecting creatures as mysterious and dangerous as Black-eyed Kids to scream running at the mere act of seeing their faces. He looked toward the first place he would expect to find answers; Bill.

He caught the demon looking astonished. It was a rare look on Bill, triangular or otherwise. But then his face melted into something more familiar. Eyes narrowed, hand to his chin, a slight smile. Dipper had seen that expression before, on his own face when he was twelve years old. Bill was excited, thinking, and definitely up to something.

“That was amazing!” Melody said, “how did you guys even...”

“I...don’t think that we know, actually...” Dipper answered slowly.

“Wow!” Bill clapped his hands together, then put them on Dipper and Mabel’s shoulders, “this has been such good fun! But we have important things to do. Important human teenager things!”

With that, Bill unceremoniously dragged them through the gift shop by their collars, leaving a confused Soos and Melody behind. Bill didn’t let go of Dipper or Mabel until they were back in the living room and he shut the door behind him.

“What _was_ that, Bill?” Dipper asked, still too confused to complain about Bill’s dragging them around, “the minute they saw me and Mabel, they freaked out! All the reports of Black-eyed Kids say that they don’t display any emotion besides anger and are practically impossible to get to leave--”

“Maybe it’s because we’re too _beautiful_...” Mabel interrupted with a hopeful whisper, her eyes wide.

“Definitely not that!” Bill remarked loudly, earning him an offended glare from Mabel, “you two said that when you ran at the people who summoned me, they freaked out and scattered, right?”

“Yeah, but I thought it was just because I hit that one guy with a pipe,” Mabel shrugged. Bill shook his head.

“They could have fought back if they wanted to. They had the means. But you two scared them off...I’m beginning to wonder if you don’t have a reputation around here.”

“A reputation?” Dipper tilted his head, brow raised.

“For being delightful?” Mabel asked, tilting her head in the opposite direction.

“Hardly. No, a reputation for taking out monsters. Defeating the gnome army, capturing the Gremgoblin, beating up unicorns...” he trailed off. Dipper’s eyes widened as he finally realized what Bill was getting at.

“And it all lead up to defeating you.”

Bill gave him an annoyed but affirmative look at Mabel blinked.

“Wha?”

“Mabel! That’s why the cult ran from us. That’s why those BEKs did too. In one summer, we took down monster after monster, and it all culminated in us defeating the ultimate evil and stopping the literal end of the world. What Bill’s saying is that we have a reputation here of taking down evil supernatural entities. Even an Eldritch horror like Bill. That’s why they’re afraid of us.”

“Though I’d like to point out,” said Eldritch horror jeered, still looking none too pleased, “technically, it wasn’t you two who ‘took me down’. It was your uncles and they did it with a dirty trick. The only thing you two succeeded in was not dying. And even barely at that!”

“Maybe,” Dipper grinned, “but that cult and those Black-eyed Kids didn’t seem to get the memo. But wait...if monsters are scared of us, then why was that wendigo trying to eat me?”

“Wendigos are dumb,” Bill shrugged, “all they think about is food. It’s probably only the more intelligent creatures that are shying away from you. No wonder that society is on the run from your uncles. I suspect all the Pines twins have a reputation as accomplished monster hunters now. Speaking of, when’s the last time you heard from those jerks?”

“Yesterday,” Mabel answered, “they called really quick just to check in. Or to let us know they’re still alive, as Grunkle Stan put it.”

“Shame.”

“ _Bill.”_ Dipper said warningly. Bill rolled his eye dramatically.

“Did you guys find anything about how to break the binding dealie?” Mabel asked. Dipper blushed furiously and Bill just slid into an easy smirk.

“No! Not yet!” Dipper babbled, “getting there, though! Soon! Lots of research we’re doing!”

“Why don’t we all just go find Stan and Ford and help them?”

“I doubt that mine is the type of help they’re looking for, Shooting Star,” Bill shrugged before stuffing his hands into his pockets, “they’re only doing this to stop that secret society from gaining unimaginable power, not to help me. I’m still a menace to them. Besides...the farther away I am from that cult, the better.”

“But they can still access your power remotely. So why does it matter?” Dipper asked. Bill smiled a little tiredly at Dipper.

“It matters, kid. It matters.”

* * *

Dipper found Bill up on the roof again that night, lying under the dark, heavy sky. He was becoming more and more comfortable with letting Bill have free reign, and Bill, surprisingly, was proving himself worthy of that trust. The night air was warm and humid, windless, though clouds obscured the moon.

“Where’s Shooting Star?” Bill asked, lazily picking the scales off of a pine cone one by one.

“On the phone with her friends.”

“Social butterfly. What ever happened to that redhead you were lusting after?”

“ _Lust_ _ing_ is a strong word,” Dipper could feel the blush on his cheeks, “she lives in Portland now. She still visits here during the summer every now and then. Usually I’d know when she’s coming next, we used to talk a lot, but...been kinda busy so far this summer.”

“Still have the hots for her?”

“I dunno...not really, I guess...but...”

“You never forget your first love,” Bill finished with a sardonic grin that put Dipper a little on edge.

“What about you? Did you ever have a first love?”

“Some more of that forbidden knowledge that you seem to want so badly,” Bill snorted.

“You haven’t given me any new information in a while,” Dipper pointed out, laying beside Bill on the shingles.

“You’re getting precious few pieces of it. You sure you want to waste it on my personal life?”

“Yes.”

“Love is chemicals, kid. Biology. Physicality. Something I haven’t had access to throughout most of my existence. So no. No first love.”

“...what’s your favorite part of being a human?”

“Really pushing it, Pine Tree,” Bill said, but Dipper could hear the amusement in his voice and saw that he was grinning. Dipper decided to push harder.

“Is it eating burnt toast? Petting Gregory Frill-face?”

“That, and the stigmata is pretty hilarious.”

“Most humans don’t have that.”

“Nope, only the important ones. Having two eyes is pretty neat, too.”

“But you can’t even see out of one of them.”

“Who said that?” Bill chuckled.

“I don’t know, it’s just...you know, it’s black. I thought...”

“Those Black-eyed Kids had eyes like this, and they seemed to see just fine.”

“Then what do you see out of that eye?”

“Everything and nothing.”

“Not a good answer.”

“You’re not a good answer.”

Dipper couldn’t help but laugh at the childish statement, and soon Bill was joining in too. After their laughter died down, they gazed at the sky, side by side.

“You really want to know what my favorite part of being human is?”

“Sure.”

Bill flipped over on top of Dipper. The boy would be lying to himself if he said he hadn’t seen it coming. And he knew it was stupid, knew it was fucked up, but he wanted more of Bill's addictive touches. Besides, he was in a rare relaxed mood, it was too dark for anyone to see them, and if someone came up on the roof, he’d hear the hatch open in enough time to...to what? Throw Bill off the roof?

“Don’t you dare,” Bill growled while kissing Dipper’s neck.

“You can...read my thoughts…?”

Bill sat up on Dipper, hands to the boy’s shoulders, and looked down at him blankly.

“Sometimes. And sometimes you can read mine too.”

Dipper immediately remembered Bill skirting around the Desk of Gaap, fear in his eyes, and hearing that weird, echoed voice in his head…

_I T h U R t s_

“But how...” Dipper asked, and Bill silenced him with a kiss.

“Reached your quota on questions,” he murmured softly.

Dipper was surprised, and, he had to admit, a little disappointed, when Bill didn’t continue his ministrations. Instead, the demon just lay against him much like he had their first night on the roof.

“I don’t know what to do with you,” Dipper admitted with a sigh, but Bill was already fast asleep against him. Dipper sighed again, let his tired eyes flicker shut, and drifted off to sleep as well.

* * *

He woke. Or he thought he woke. He was still on the roof, everything was still more or less the same...but Bill was not on him anymore, and the world was in gray.

“The Mindscape….?” he asked to no one, to nothing.

“The MINDSCAPE,” Bill’s mighty voice echoed around him. Dipper turned. Bill floated behind him, leaning on his cane, contemplative.

“Again?” Dipper asked in confusion, “how…?”

“I’m TRYING to FIGURE THAT OUT, KID,” Bill hovered closer to Dipper, who found himself not flinching away as he usually did. Even without the benefit of a face to convey emotions, Dipper could tell Bill was frustrated, even uneasy.

“This didn’t happen last night,” Dipper pointed out. Bill shrugged.

“I didn’t SLEEP LAST NIGHT.”

“What? Then what did you do?”

“I TRACKED DOWN that OWL that was giving me DIRTY LOOKS the other day!”

“Oh my god, Bill. Please tell me you didn’t kill it.”

“Of COURSE NOT. It is a WORTHY ADVERSARY. I just had to REMIND IT who was IN CHARGE AROUND HERE.”

“Of course you did, you weirdo,” Dipper groaned, a hand to his head, “listen, I...I know you’re trying to figure this out. And I want to help you, I do. But I doubt there’s anything we can find here, and trips into the Mindscape aren’t exactly...restful. I’d rather just sleep tonight. Can you…? Are you able to do that?”

Bill studied him for a moment before snapping his fingers. The world dissolved and reformed into the attic, and Dipper was in his bed with the covers over him. Bill floated near the headboard.

“BETTER?”

“Yeah, this is...actually really nice. Thanks, Bill...”

“Shall I MATERIALIZE YOU a STUFFED ANIMAL to CUDDLE WITH as well, YOUR PINE-NESS?” Bill asked mockingly. Dipper couldn’t help but grin.

“That is quite all right, William,” he said with haughty affectation, then smiled wider as Bill closed his eye and laughed, glowing bright gold, “so uh...what will you do?”

“CREEPILY WATCH YOU, I GUESS,” Bill floated closer to Dipper and widened his eye for emphasis. Dipper rolled his eyes.

“That’s gonna get pretty boring.”

“Your MINDSCAPES are already PRETTY BORING,” Bill shrugged. Dipper made to snuggle into the covers, but he paused. He reached out a tentative hand toward Bill, stopping as Bill’s great eye blinked and peered, unreadable, at him.

“I just...I wanted to know what you feel like. In here. In this form.”

“PERVERT.”

“Not like that!" Dipper grumbled. Bill’s eye crinkled and he floated in closer. Dipper’s fingers brushed up against the tiny body. Despite Bill’s bright yellow glow, he was cold. Cold and smooth like a stone, but buzzing with energy and static nonetheless. Like a malfunctioning refrigerator. 

“That’s NOT VERY NICE,” Bill remarked, and Dipper felt the static pulse with each syllable Bill spoke.

“Stop reading my thoughts.”

“Hard NOT TO in the  _MIND_ SCAPE, PINE TREE.”

“Point taken,” he said, and brushed his fingertips down to Bill’s bricks, feeling the tiny crevices and where they dipped in, “can you feel this?”

“YES,” Bill answered, “I CAN FEEL it, but it has NO FEELING. Yeah, I KNOW it doesn’t MAKE ANY SENSE, but that’s JUST THE WAY it is.”

“Does this come off?” Dipper asked and tugged a little at Bill’s bowtie. Bill swatted Dipper’s hand away and floated out of his reach.

“The TIE’S OFF-LIMITS, kid! GET SOME SLEEP, you DEVIANT.”

He floated back down and ruffled Dipper’s hair.

As Dipper closed his eyes and fell slowly into a sleep within a sleep, he thought that the gesture may have held a little bit of affection.

Maybe just a little.


	10. Ignorance is Bliss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dipper and Mabel take Bill out in public. It doesn't end well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay my beautiful children, Hedgehog Mom is going away for a while (on a work trip, not to the asylum, I promise), so there likely won't be a new chapter for a while. To help tide you over, I made this chapter extra long and filled it to the brim with anything you could ever want; Fluff! Smut! Drama! Mystery! Hurt! Comfort! Triangle Bill! Blowjobs!  
> As always, I will treasure every single kudos and comment you bestow upon my wretched soul.

“Whoa.”

The voice came from far away, it seemed. A familiar voice. Dipper hummed softly, willing himself to not be woken. His sleep had been so good. Just ten more minutes, he told the voice without speaking. Just a little while longer. But it persisted.

“Dipper….Dipper?”

He groaned in frustration and opened his eyes, bleary in the early morning light. The smell of cedar and the call of birds helped reel him back into consciousness. As he finally focused, his sister’s face appeared before him.

“Mabel...c’mon, I was sleeping really well...” he grumbled, closing his eyes again.

“Really? That’s weird, because you slept on the roof all night with a literal nightmare demon on top of you.”

Dipper’s eyes shot back open when he finally processed what she was saying. Bill was still fast asleep on him, arms wound around him tightly and head laying in the crook of his neck.

“Oh my god! I...Bill, come on, get off!” he shoved the demon aside and sat. His back ached. Sleeping on hard shingles, it turned out, was not a great idea.

“He’s kinda cute when he’s sleeping,” Mabel observed, tilting her head down at Bill, who hadn’t woken despite Dipper’s admittedly rough treatment, “almost like he’s not...y’know, him. Is that why you let him sleep all over you, bro? Because he’s cute?”

“Mabel!” Dipper blushed, “I didn’t...I mean, it just kind of happened! You know how Bill is! He’s...touchy. He likes to touch people.”

“Not me,” Mabel shrugged, “come downstairs, goober. You need to put more medicine on that cut on your leg. Apparently you guys are too dumb to take care of yourselves, so I’ve got to do it, and I won’t have anyone marring my perfect record by dying.”

“What do you mean ‘perfect record’? That lizard you doctored didn’t last two days.”

“I miss you, Senor Speckle-Head...” Mabel murmured softly, eyes downcast.

“He uh...you did your best.”

“That’s all anyone can do,” Mabel sighed, before slipping back into her good mood, a disconcerting habit, “oh hey! So, I was going to go into town today and get Grenda an engagement gift. I thought, you know, maybe we could take Bill?”

“Mabel. We’re supposed to be doing everything we can to _avoid_ people running into Bill. The Nevermind All That ordinance didn’t erase people’s memories, and Bill’s not an easy guy to forget. I’m pretty sure Soos has realized something is up, and I feel bad lying to him--”

“No one is gonna recognize him as long as he’s in that form!”

“Right, because normal humans have black and yellow glowing eyes.”

“He can wear sunglasses!”

“I can wear sunglasses!”

The two snapped their heads around to look at Bill, who had woken and had apparently been listening for some time.

“See, Dipper? He wants to go! He’ll be good, won’t you?”

“I’ll be so good, it’ll blow your pathetic minds right into the stratosphere! Maybe even further! Maybe to Venus!” he spread his arms wide to illustrate his point.

“You guys…” Dipper groaned.

“What?” Bill asked, “Venus is actually farther away than you may think. Not good enough? Jupiter then, but any farther than that is just a ridiculous exaggeration.”

“Some time out of this old shack will be good for him, Dipper. Besides, he need shoes. Going barefoot all the time isn’t doing anything for those wounds.”

“Stigmata wounds.”

“Yes, Bill, we know. You’ve only said it about a thousand times,” Dipper grumbled.

“Now _that’s_ an exaggeration. Besides, I seem to recall someone saying they’d try to find me a bow tie if I was good...I think I’ve been pretty good. Shooting Star?”

“Super good! Get this man a bow tie, stat!”

“I just—we can’t let the townspeople see – I mean, Bill. You’ve got to understand. It wasn’t that long ago that you turned this place into hell on earth. You drove these people out of their homes and—and terrified them, drove them crazy, took their friends and family one by one and turned them all into statues! They won’t have forgotten your eye, or your voice, even if you are in a human body. You’ll scare them, and they don’t deserve that.”

“I don’t necessarily agree with that, but let’s say I see your point. That’s what the sunglasses are for. And I just won’t talk!”

“That’s a good one,” Dipper answered with crossed arms and a raised eyebrow.

“Come on, it’ll be fun! When we get back, I’ll answer some more of your stupid questions. Cosmic knowledge, and it’s practically free! How about that?”

“See, Dipper?” Mabel grinned, “everyone wins!”

Dipper paused, thinking, then sighed and rubbed his eyes.

“Fine.”

Mabel and Bill’s cheers and high-fives did nothing to quell Dipper’s anxiety over the whole situation.

And so, a short couple of hours later, he found himself sticking as close to Bill as possible in Gravity Falls’ lone department store.

They had dressed the demon in a fresh set of Dipper’s clothes; pants, a Ghost Harassers t-shirt, and a blue plaid overshirt to hide the binding marks on his arms. He also wore a pair of Mabel’s purple, oversized sunglasses, giving Bill a vaguely eccentric, but otherwise human, appearance.

“What do you guys think about this for Grenda?” Mabel asked, holding up a hideous pink purse with huge plastic butterflies sewn up and down its sides, “I think it’s perfect. The butterflies symbolize _love_.”

“Yeah, Mabel, okay, sure. Are we done now? Can we go?”

“That depends, did you find the shoes?”

Bill grinned and rather proudly held up a pair of black dress shoes in one hand, and a loose bow tie in the other.

“And a tie! This place has everything. I even saw poodle skirts back there. I invented those, y’know.”

“Sure you did. Let’s get out of here before--”

“Dude! Dipper?” a voice from across the aisle made him jump.

“Wendy!!” Mabel shrieked and ran across the aisle, throwing her arms around the woman. Wendy chuckled and hugged Mabel back.

“Just as crazy as ever. It’s great to see you guys again! I can’t believe it’s been like, a whole year! Mabel. Mabel, dude. Loving that haircut.”

“Oh you!” Mabel grinned. Wendy approached Dipper, holding up her palm and smiling at him. He glanced nervously at her, then at Mabel, then at Bill, then back at Wendy.

“Dipper, dude. Come on, don’t leave me hanging!”

Dipper gave a nervous laugh and high-fived her.

“Wendy! I didn’t know you were back in town!”

“Yeah, man. Just got back a couple of days ago. I was gonna head down to the Shack to see everyone today, but hey, here you are! Who’s your new bud?” she nodded to Bill. Dipper looked over at him. Bill had a smile on his face that Dipper didn’t like.

“That’s...uh...you know, he’s really not our friend.”

“What!” Mabel exclaimed and elbowed Dipper in the side, “yes he is, silly! This is Bi--...Bilbo. Bilbo Baggins...shire. Bilbo Bagginshire!”

Dipper slapped a hand to his face as he heard Bill whisper a flat and incredulous “ _what_ ” behind him.

“...Bilbo Baggins…” Wendy repeated slowly, an eyebrow raised, “like...uh...the hobbit?”

“Pfft, no!” Mabel said, “Bilbo Baggin _shire_! Completely different name. It’s British! He’s from Britain. He ran away from home because his parents wouldn’t stop making him play rugby and have tea time. We took him in because we’re great!”

“Well...you guys _are_ pretty great. Nice to meet you, Bilbo.”

Dipper was terrified that Bill would speak, say something terrible in that loud and unmistakable voice. He didn’t.

What he did instead was almost as bad.

Bill stepped forward and slipped his hand into Dipper’s, pulling the boy against him and kissing his cheek. Dipper froze, Mabel gasped, and Wendy stared.

“Oh!” Mabel clapped her hands together, “Um...also, he’s Dipper’s...boyfriend! I guess!!”

Dipper stared at Mabel in horror and she gave a helpless shrug.

“Whoa,” Wendy said, eyes still wide, before shrugging, “hey, Dipper, good for you, man. To tell the truth, I always kinda figured, y’know?”

“What!?” Dipper squeaked. Bill grinned and nuzzled against him.

“Anyway, what’s with the shades, man?” Wendy pointed to the oversized purple sunglasses Bill wore. Bill looked at Mabel.

“Oh! Um...also, Bilbo Bagginshire is...mute. And...sensitive to light. He used to live in a hole in the ground. Not a hobbit hole! Just a hole. A sad hole. So, that’s why he needs the glasses.”

“Weird, dude. Man, Dipper, I can’t wait to tell the guys you have a boyfriend! A mute, ground-dwelling boyfriend from Britain. That is _so_ freaking cool. Dude. They’re gonna flip. The fuck. Out.”

“I...I have to go!” Dipper proclaimed loudly, pulling Bill roughly along with him.

“Be right back!” Mabel yelled to a confused-looking Wendy as she followed the two. Dipper dragged Bill into one of the empty aisles, Mabel wringing her hands nervously as she watched them.

“Bill! What the actual _fuck_ do you think you’re doing?!” he asked in a low hiss.

“I thought it would be funny!” Bill shrugged, not bothering to keep his voice down. A woman passing by gave them a startled look.

“Quiet!” Dipper snapped. Bill crossed his arms.

“So I’m not allowed to talk, or show my eyes, _or_ hold your hand? Awful lot of restrictions, Pine Tree.”

“Bill, I swear to god--”

“Boys, boys!” Mabel stepped between them, “can’t we just calm do--”

“No, Mabel! What were you thinking?! Bill is my boyfriend?!”

“It was the best cover I could come up with at the time!”

“That’s your best?! Now Wendy thinks I’m with _this_ \--” he gestured to Bill, who shot back a glare, “and she’s gonna tell all her friends and--”

“You care too much about what other people think” Bill said matter-of-factly, “it’s entirely inconsequential. When there’s universe upon universe stacked on top of each other, dimension upon dimension, endless secrets and unimaginable knowledge! But here you are, worried that some lady thinks you’re dating a guy.”

“Not a guy! You! You’re not a guy! You’re a monster! And a huge dick, apparently!”

“Oh, but Pine Tree,” Bill shot back, his grin filled with malice, “you do like huge dicks, don’t you?”

“You son of a--”

“Guys!” Mabel said again, spreading her arms to keep them apart, “okay, here’s the deal. You two take the cart and go back to the Shack, you’re kinda causing a scene. I’ll stay here and buy your stuff and do damage control on Wendy.”

She took the shoes and tie Bill held and tried an uneasy grin. Dipper still fumed, but Bill just shrugged.

“Whatever you say, Shooting Star.”

“Whatever I say,” Mabel nodded, “okay, go on. I’ll have Wendy drop me off at the Shack later. Go work it out. And try not to kill each other.”

One tense golf cart ride later, they were back home. Dipper stormed into the foyer, Bill following casually behind him. Dipper immediately took to pacing back and forth, sighing heavily every few seconds. Bill took off the sunglasses and watched in amusement.

“You doin’ okay there, kid?”

“What do you think!? You told Wendy you were my boyfriend!”

“Technically, I didn’t say anything. Shooting Star did. And why do you care? You said you didn’t still like her.”

“I mean, I don’t! But I still like her as a person! I just, you know it’s weird! You...in front of everyone...she’s gonna be asking questions now, and...I mean, it’d be weird if you were even just a normal human, but you’re not, you’re a demon that tried to kill me--”

“Oh geez, if I have to hear _that_ one more time...” Bill rolled his eye.

“Well it’s true!” Dipper exclaimed, jerking his hands to the side, “I know you don’t understand, but all that was pretty goddamn traumatizing to a kid! And now you’re just—you’re rubbing up against me and kissing me and pretending to be my boyfriend! It’s weird!”

“It was all for laughs!”

“ _Your_ laughs. All you did was embarrass me in front of everyone. You’re a fucking tool, Bill,” Dipper made to storm off, but before he could, Bill grabbed his collar and pulled him close, growling.

“You need to grow thicker bark, Pine Tree. I’m telling you for your own good.”

“Or what?” Dipper spat back, feeling argumentative. His moodiness only seemed to feed Bill’s fire, the demon’s eye glowed hotter.

“Or this world is gonna chop you down and turn you into mulch.”

“ _You_ tried that once. It didn’t work.”

“I want to vaporize your stupid fucking face off sometimes,” Bill purred dangerously, his grip on Dipper’s collar tightening.

“Try it,” Dipper breathed.

The two glared hotly at each other for another moment before Bill yanked Dipper forward into a crushing kiss. That feeling of pleasant electricity coursed through Dipper’s body again and before he knew it, his arms were around Bill, tight, pulling the demon against him. Bill kissed him aggressively, shoving Dipper forward until his back hit the wall. The wall behind him and Bill all around him, kissing, suckling, rubbing, he couldn’t escape. Didn’t want to escape.

Bill threw Dipper’s hat to the side and tangled a hand through his hair, rough, yanking his head back to move his kisses to Dipper’s neck.

“You’ve been a fucking thorn in my side ever since the day I met you, Pine Tree,” he punctuated his point with a hard bite. Dipper moaned, felt the blood rush straight to his groin.

“You’re a fucking horrible monster,” was all Dipper could manage to say, his head clouded with delight as his hands roamed up and down Bill’s lithe body.

“But you like fucking horrible monsters, Pine Tree...” Bill’s sinful voice whispered in his ear, hot, dripping with sensuality, “I remember the way you _moaned_ down in the basement...”

He pressed his body hard against Dipper, rolled his hips, and Dipper groaned.

“Aahn...fuck...Bill...”

“That’s right, say my fucking name...” the demon pulled back and gazed at Dipper, his face all fire and fervor, “tell me what you want, Pine Tree...”

He ran his fingertips from Dipper’s neck all the way down to his hip, and each digit left a trail of gooseflesh even under Dipper’s clothing.

P I n e T R e e

w H at D O y o u W A NT

Dipper moaned. Bill’s voice in his ear was enough to set him alight, but the addition of each voice in his head threatened to push him over the edge. Pure need rushed through him, and he answered Bill without even thinking.

“You.”

Bill wasted no time in sliding down his body, roughly pulling Dipper’s shorts and underwear with him. Dipper gazed blearily down at him, vaguely registering that Bill Cipher being so close to such a treasured part of his anatomy could be very, very dangerous.

“Relax,” Bill chuckled, glancing up at him, “I’m not going to hurt you.”

“Just scar me for life, then…?” Dipper managed to say despite the desperate need that burned throughout his body. Bill grinned and grabbed Dipper’s hips.

“Probably,” he said before engulfing Dipper’s dick into his mouth.

Dipper had to cling to every reserve of willpower, draw from every well of strength, not to scream. Bill’s mouth on him was exquisite. Warm and wet and humming with energy, the way his body had in the Mindscape. Dipper threaded his hands into Bill’s hair, couldn’t help but thrust his hips forward, fucking Bill’s amazing, annoying mouth.

Bill, for his part, didn’t seem to mind. He gave a little moan and his grip on Dipper’s hips tightened, his tongue swirling around the member, his lips sucking, sending wave upon wave of ecstasy through every single nerve of Dipper’s body.

What had happened in the basement was nothing compared to this. It was euphoria beyond any Dipper had felt, beyond what he even knew was possible. He didn’t even feel like a person anymore, just a mass of nerves and lust and light, disconnected from everything but pure bliss. Even with his eyes closed, everything was a soft, golden glow, his moans seemed so far off, his body was a burning bright ember, overloading with heat. He had no control. He was on autopilot and trapped in the prison of his pleasure.

And then, an explosion of brightness, an ecstasy so intense it ripped through his body like a cleaver, he felt like he was being torn apart, and it felt so _good_...he was barely aware when his knees gave out and he sank to the floor, eye-level with Bill, who was wiping his mouth and watching him with lidded eyes.

Dipper panted hard, weak from satisfaction, his skin still so sensitive that he groaned when Bill simply put a hand on his kneecap.

“I think I did that right,” Bill said. Dipper gazed blearily at him.

He was so beautiful.

Too beautiful. Unearthly. A golden idol, a god to be worshiped.

Dipper wanted to give himself to Bill, to have Bill take him in, live in that place of pleasure forever.

He wanted Bill, needed Bill, _loved_ Bill.

That last thought was enough to startle Dipper out of his daze.

“Are you...seducing me again?” he asked suspiciously once he had regained the strength to form complete sentences.

“No, you’re just having an episode because I sucked you off so good,” Bill answered pointedly, “anything you’re feeling is completely normal. I assume.”

“You assume…?”

“Never happened to me, so I can’t speak from experience. Supernatural entities have the habit of intensifying all human feelings and emotions. As you’ve seen, both physical feelings,” he gave an impish smile before continuing, “and emotions. Whatever you’re feeling is already there, just heightened significantly.”

Dipper just sat there, still reeling, his shorts and underwear on the floor and a demon sitting in between his knees. It was such an odd position to be in, he felt disconnected from it, like it wasn’t really him at all.

“I uh...” Dipper struggled to keep his head clear, his voice smooth, “am I...supposed to do that to you now, or…?”

“I believe that would be the polite thing to do.”

“I...uh...I’ve never...”

“You don’t have to,” Bill shrugged. Dipper nearly did a double take.

“What?”

“If you don’t want to, don’t worry about it. I’m not gonna force it on you.”

Dipper stared at Bill incredulously, for so long that he saw the demon visibly get annoyed.

“What’s your deal, kid?”

“Sorry, it’s just a little hard to believe! Forcing people to do stuff is kind of your thing!”

“You’ve got me all wrong, Pine Tree. And after all these years, I’m a little hurt,” Bill huffed, and did in fact seem a little put out, “I don’t force people to do anything. I make deals. They want something, I give it to them. But you know how it is, nothing is really free.”

Dipper stared at Bill, and Bill stared back, blinking.

“I...are you sure?”

“Yes, kid, I’m sure. Besides, all your talking has ruined the mood for me anyway. Ooh, yell at me some more! Hit me! That’ll do the trick.”

“What?” Dipper asked, aghast, “no way!”

“Well then, get those pants back on and let’s get to work.”

Bill stood fluidly and helped Dipper to his feet before the boy yanked up his shorts in embarrassment.

“Work?”

“More research. There’s gotta be something Fordsy has that I’m missing.”

“Or maybe the answers you’re looking for just aren’t there.”

“If I didn’t know any better, I'd think you wanna keep me around, Pine Tree...” Bill smirked and caressed Dipper’s cheek. The boy rolled his eyes.

“You _would_ think that.”

“Mm,” Bill gave a soft hum and kissed Dipper gently, “I’m always answering your questions, so why don’t you answer one of mine? Will you miss me when I’m gone?”

“You’ll never really be gone,” Dipper murmured into another kiss, “you weren’t the first time. And I’m sure you’ll be sticking around to haunt my dreams...”

“Would you like that?” Bill slid his hands down Dipper’s sides and the boy closed his eyes at the sensation.

“Yes,” he answered without thinking.

“Hm,” was all Bill gave in response, wrapping his arms around Dipper’s neck and kissing his ear.

“Have you thought about staying human?” Dipper didn’t really know what he was saying anymore, or why. What was the point? Couldn’t Bill read his thoughts anyway? Didn’t Bill know everything?

Bill pulled away from Dipper, an eyebrow arched as he studied him with scrutiny.

“And have my power bound forever, able to be controlled by any jerk that stumbles upon the right runes or spells or artifacts? Yeah, sounds like a lot of fun.”

“Once that cult is gone and the spells are hidden, no one will be able to control you.”

“Kid...” Bill cupped Dipper’s cheeks in his hands and pressed his forehead against Dipper’s, “as long as I’m in his body, with these marks, someone will always be able to control me. Just a matter of time. I wouldn’t be surprised if those uncles of yours tried it.”

“They wouldn’t do that...” he said softly, though he knew in his heart that wasn’t true. Bill smirked, playing with a loose lock of Dipper’s hair.

“You know as well as I do that Fordsy woulda kept me shackled to that table until the foundation of reality itself crumbled away. He’d use the spells. He’d trap me with my own power. Not risking it. I’d rather go back to being powerless and unbound than powerful and bound.”

“What will you do once you’re free?”

“Lay low for a while,” Bill shrugged, “there’s a small chance that others have caught wind of this, and if they have, they’ll be forming a line to try and capture and control your old pal Bill. If you think I’ve made enemies in _this_ dimension, you should see the freaks gunning for me in all the others!”

“...are you afraid?” Dipper asked, searching Bill’s face for an answer. But the demon just smiled that easy, infuriating smile and patted Dipper’s shoulder.

“Let’s get to work, Pine Tree.”

Bill didn’t say much for the next couple of hours as they combed through the basement rooms. Dipper thought it unusual, but he had his own thoughts to gather.

 _Would_ he miss Bill when the demon had vacated that body? His life would certainly be less stressful once this mess was all over with, but something about Bill was addictive. Not just his touches, though those were certainly becoming increasingly drug-like, but his very energy.

_‘Supernatural entities have the habit of intensifying all human feelings and emotions. As you’ve seen, both physical feelings and emotions. Whatever you’re feeling is already there, just heightened significantly.’_

So maybe, Dipper wondered, he would miss the heightened emotion Bill gave him, the power the demon exuded, but not the demon himself.

But weren’t they both the same? Ford had said it himself. Bill’s very being was his power, his energy. All bundled up in one small, explosive package.

And now the creature that had once given him fervent nightmares and panic attacks was giving him restful nights and calmed nerves. And Dipper knew, somewhere deep within himself, that he was just trying to make justifications for the truth; that he would miss Bill. And not because of any kind of heightened emotion the demon was responsible for...he'd miss Bill for the same reasons he'd miss a person, and that terrified him.

It was making Dipper’s head hurt, his heart pound, and in the back of his mind, he wondered if Bill could hear his thoughts. But the demon was in the corner, struggling to pick the lock of an old, weathered trunk, and seemed preoccupied in the task. Still, the boy attempted to quiet his mind and focus on finding some sort of hint, some clue, as to a way to reverse Bill's binding.

Of course, he didn’t necessarily know what he was looking for.

And just when he thought he couldn’t sort through the same box of books for the fiftieth time, he heard Bill inhale sharply behind him. He turned. It seemed Bill had succeeded in unlocking the trunk, and had pulled out its contents; a bronze mask in the shape of a screaming face, the same one that Dipper had seen in Ford’s photograph what seemed like ages ago. Bill stared at it, rubbed his thumb against a nodule on its side.

“Be careful with that. Ford brought that here and he doesn’t know what it is. He said it might be dangerous.”

Bill didn’t respond, and Dipper was about to ask him what was wrong, before his face cracked into a wide smile and he started laughing rather maniacally. He held the mask out in front of him as someone would a baby they were admiring, still laughing that loud unsettling laugh.

“Bill...come on, man. You’re kind of scaring me.”

“Kid!” Bill finally looked up at Dipper, his expression ecstatic, “do you have any idea what this is?”

“Uh, a mask?”

“Smartass,” Bill shook his head, and held the mask out to Dipper for him to inspect, “something a little more nuanced than that. Come on, at least take a guess.”

“...a uh...head that’s always screaming? But in bronze?” Dipper tried. Bill’s eye lit up and he grinned wider.

“You got it!”

“What? Really?”

“Yep! This is from...Sumerian times, if I remember right. Those Sumerians, now they knew how to treat a guy. Lots of deals, lots of jobs. Lots of forbidden knowledge. I was making deals left and right! And, you know, sometimes I like to give gifts. Heads that are always screaming are kind of my go-to present. The Sumerians took them to be a symbol of mine, made lots of masks like these,” he held the mask up to his face, “after a while, the cults started wearing these when they would summon me and ask for my favor. Show of respect or whatever. Great guys!”

“Trip down memory lane or something?” Dipper asked dryly, “I don’t see why it’s such a big deal. That thing is creepy.”

“You obviously don’t get it. This mask might just be able to unbind me.”

“How, exactly?”

“Another ritual. Kind of like the reverse of what the cult did, but with this mask as a source of magic. I can feel some old power in this thing...can’t you?”

Dipper hesitantly touched the cold, green-streaked surface. He barely registered a slight hum under his fingertips, a cold and subtle hum he had come to associate with Bill.

“You sure it’ll work?”

“Almost!” Bill grinned excitedly, “these babies have never let me down in the past. I knew we’d find something eventually. I told you, didn’t I?”

“No, you didn’t,” Dipper answered, but chuckled when Bill poked his ribs, “hey, stop that!”

“If you didn’t like it, you wouldn’t be smiling!” was Bill’s answer. He leaned in and kissed Dipper’s cheek, his ear, down his neck. Dipper sighed and leaned back, tilting his neck to give Bill better access. Bill seemed so overjoyed, it was infectuous. And his kisses felt too good, like warm blossoms of light.

“So what now?”

“I’ll figure out the right ritual to do, we’ll gather what we need, find a place...” Bill crawled into Dipper’s lap, resting his arms on Dipper’s shoulders, still kissing his neck through his words, “...and then I’ll be free.”

“What kind of ritual?” Dipper said through a moan as the excited demon bit the tender flesh of his shoulder.

“You ask too many questions,” Bill murmured, licking the red bite marks.

“Because you have all the answers,” he wrapped his arms around Bill’s lithe body. Bill chuckled and buried his face in the crook of Dipper’s neck, breathing in deeply.

“You sure like answers,” he mumbled against the skin before giving it a small peck.

“Who doesn’t?”

“Ever heard ‘ignorance is bliss’?”

“I don’t believe that.”

Bill gave a small noise that Dipper took to be an indeterminate answer. He ran his hands up the demon’s back, against the soft skin of his neck, through Bill’s tousled golden hair. Bill didn’t make a move, save for his hands slowly gripping the fabric of Dipper’s shirt until it was pulled taut and uncomfortable against the boy's back.

“If you want to take my shirt off, just take it off,” Dipper said, a little annoyed.

Bill didn’t move.

Dipper put his hands on Bill’s shoulders and leaned him back to look at him. Bill’s eyes were wide, his face drained of color, his mouth open in a soundless gasp. And then, like a car’s high beams being switched on, his eyes blasted blue and a string of garbled nonsense poured from between his lips. His body was tense and motionless in Dipper’s lap, his fingers still digging into the fabric of Dipper’s shirt like clamps.

“Oh fuck,” Dipper whispered softly. He shook Bill’s shoulders, “Bill. Bill?”

But Bill gave no sign of breaking out of whatever state he was held in. He continued to stare, blue and blank, at something beyond Dipper, beyond reality itself, and the old chants and hymns rushed from his mouth like a torrent, becoming louder and louder until soon they were all-encompassing. Wind from nowhere whipped through Bill’s hair, whistled in Dipper’s ear.

“Do you...can I help?” Dipper raised his voice against the din, searching the demon’s face for any sign of recognition, “Bill? Can you hear me?”

p I N e T R e e

The voice seemed far away.

“Bill! How can I help?”

p I N e T R e e

p I N e T R e e

p I N e T R e e

It repeated over and over again in Dipper’s head, just that, nothing else. No suggestions of what to do, no comforting words, nothing. Just the plea of Dipper’s given name from Bill. Dipper paused, then wrapped his arms around the demon again, holding the tensed body against his own.

The wind was howling now, its own self-contained storm around them, swirling with enough force to pick up items throughout the room and churn them in its grasp. One of Ford’s books narrowly missed Dipper’s head. He held Bill tight and curled in upon him, trying to protect them both from the barrage as Bill’s mighty voice echoed as loud as a locomotive and as terrible as a firestorm. The cyclone picked up, battering them, and Dipper looked up, eyes narrowed against the stinging wind, to search for a place they could hide under for safety.

The last thing he saw was the bronze mask hurtling straight toward his head, carried by the frenzied winds.

 _‘Oh shit’_ was all he could think before it struck him and the world turned dark.

* * *

 

He opened is eyes to a world of black, washed with gray, indeterminate shapes. The Mindscape, but it was wrong. It was too dark, too noisy. Where there was usually motionlessness, there was wind. Where there was usually silence, there was a never-ending howl.

Dipper stood, walked toward the source of the din. Pale, triangular outlines flickered into view, only to dissolve away just as quickly. And then he noticed the eyes.

Hundreds of them, maybe thousands, glowing, blinking in and out of view. Huge and almond-shaped and staring, vertical pupils constricted into thin slits. Some were yellow, some blue, some so black that they were barely discernible against the swirling darkness. They followed him as he passed.

The howls got louder, and Dipper picked up his pace. Among the screams, he heard Bill’s voice chattering in multiples, as if there were dozens of Bills somewhere, talking over one another. He could make out some of the sentences as things he’d heard before.

“IGNORANCE is BLISS.”

“Will you MISS ME when I’m gone?”

“LOVE is CHEMICALS, kid.”

“Did you MISS ME? ADMIT IT, you MISSED ME!”

But others, he couldn’t remember hearing before.

“IF WE get this PORTAL UP AND RUNNING, there’s NO LIMIT to what WE CAN DO.”

“BOW BEFORE ME, OWL!”

“Gotta GET OUT it’s HAPPENING I KNEW this would HAPPEN.”

“DOPAMINE, NOREPINEPHRINE, SEROTONIN. DO NOT let them FOOL YOU.”

And among that, Dipper heard that familiar chant.

p I N e T R e e

p I N e T R e e

p I N e T R e e

And appearing suddenly before him was the burning golden shape of a person, stretched out in the air, arms and legs spread and face featureless save for two glowing blue eyes and a mouth wrenched open in an endless wail. Dipper gasped and jumped back as dozens of dark arms reached out from the dim fog, grabbing at the figure, pulling golden glowing chunks of it away by the handful. The flesh of the figure went easily, as if it was made of cake and the hands were those of greedy children. Each piece that was taken immediately rebuilt itself as if with tiny bricks, only to be scooped away once again.

The spectacle was perverse, unsettling. 

“Bill!” Dipper yelled above the noise, “I’m here! It’ll be okay!”

Truthfully, Dipper didn’t know if it would be okay. He wasn’t even sure Bill could hear him, until all of Bill’s compound voices converged into one mighty boom above him. The body still screamed.

“PINE TREE.”

“Bill? How can I help?”

“PINE TREE. WAKE UP.”

“I don’t--” but before he could finish the sentence, the body before him was fading, and so were the voices. The eyes all closed, and darkness enveloped him.

A searing pain in his head told him that he was awake, and the shriek of the wind and Bill’s jumbled voice told him that the ordeal wasn’t over yet.

When the mask struck him, he’d fallen over with Bill still in his lap. Now they both lay on the floor, facing one another, Dipper’s arms still around Bill and Bill’s hands still clutching tightly onto Dipper’s shirt.

He gazed blearily into Bill’s burning eyes, watched as the demon’s lips formed over the impossible words. He didn’t know what else to do but keep laying there, holding Bill, waiting for it to pass. He blinked blood out of his right eye, struggled to keep back nausea from the pain as the wind whipped and books and the mask swept above them.

It lasted for what seemed like hours before finally dying off. The chants stopped, the wind died, the books fell heavily and the mask clattered to the floor. Dipper watched as Bill’s eyes slowly drained from blue to their usual colors. The demon gave a weak gasp, sucking in air, his thin chest rising and falling as he struggled to breathe.

“Bill,” Dipper put a hand to Bill’s cheek, “hey, look at me...”

But Bill’s eye just roved madly, focusing on nothing as he gasped and panted and beads of sweat dripped down his pale face. Then he gave a violent shudder and a loud groan, and was unconscious.

Dipper watched him for a moment before he let go of Bill and sat, gingerly touching a hand to the side of his head. It hurt and it came back bloody. He staggered to his feet and made his way to the small basement bathroom, hunching over the sink to look in the mirror. Luckily, it seemed like the cut was beginning to clot, though there was a rather large knot forming on the side of his skull. He washed his face and found some gauze to wrap around his head. Then he went back to Bill, who lay motionless on the floor.

He had to speak to the demon. Make sure he was okay. 

With some effort, he managed to drag Bill into Ford's bedroom. His head pounded, his stomach churned, but he was able to get the demon onto the bed. Then he climbed in as well, wrapped his arms around Bill, and was out quicker than he thought he’d be.

* * *

 

The Mindscape seemed back to its usual self, though surprisingly blank. Dipper saw a figure nearby, naked, hunched over on the ground, its back toward him. He recognized that back, he’d been forced to take pictures of it. Bill. Human.

“Bill?” he asked cautiously as he approached. Bill didn’t move for a moment, then turned to look over his shoulder. He gazed at Dipper with a blank expression before his form began to flicker, fading away until the triangle was revealed beneath.

He was tiny, tired-looking, so dim that he seemed to nearly not be there. He hovered, and chunks of his bricks crumbled with each movement he made, only to reform and crumble again. The disintegrating golden dust poured from him like fine sand before evaporating into thin air.

“Are you okay?” was all Dipper could think to say, though he had seen enough to know the answer. Bill closed his eye tiredly, and when he didn't speak, Dipper continued, awkwardly, "that...was bad, huh...?"

“LOTS of power,” Bill finally sighed, “something BIG.”

“How big?”

“They could probably have LEVELED a BUILDING with all the power they just STOLE from me. SOONER we do this RITUAL, the BETTER. CAN’T let this HAPPEN again.”

“We’ll do it as soon as you’re ready.”

“I’d make you SHAKE ON IT, but I’m TOO TIRED.”

“I’m kinda thankful for that, not gonna lie.”

Dipper thought Bill would be offended by the comment, glare or even laugh or _something_ , but the demon just peered up at him, his eye unreadable, silent. When he finally did speak, it sounded like it took effort. His body continued to fall apart and rebuild, fall apart and rebuild.

“You’ve gotta WAKE UP, kid. Not supposed to SLEEP on a HEAD INJURY.”

“I wanted to make sure you were okay. It's...stupid,” Dipper said sheepishly. Bill stared at him for a moment before tipping Dipper’s chin up with a small, ice-cold hand.

“I’m FINE. ALWAYS. YOU, however, may end up a VEGETABLE if you don’t WAKE UP soon.”

“Can you wake me up?” he asked. Bill gave a quick bow that Dipper took as a nod, “okay. ...hey..."

Bill looked up at him, fingers poised to snap.

“I _will_ miss you when you’re gone. But don't let it get to your head."

Bill regarded him silently for a moment, then his eye crinkled tiredly and he snapped his fingers. As the Mindscape dissolved and Dipper was spirited away to the waking world, he heard Bill’s voice, faint and chuckling.

“I’ll miss you too, kid.” 


	11. Tender Eyes That Shine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All I have to say about this chapter is that if you're not into occult blood sex rituals, you should probably sit this one out. Otherwise, enjoy!

“Are you sure you don’t want to go to the hospital, Dipper? I mean, I’m pretty sure you’re supposed to go to the hospital when you get hit in the head.”

He and Mabel sat at the kitchen table, staring out the window into the overcast morning sky and brooding over fresh mugs of cocoa. When Mabel had gotten home the day before from doing “damage control” on Wendy (though Dipper suspected she just made things worse), she had gasped at his bruised face and bloodied hair, listened quietly as he recounted what happened, then helped him wash his head and dab iodine on the cut. All the while, she’d been uncharacteristically silent, her face holding a sad, strained expression, one that still lingered.

“I’m fine, it just hurts. But I guess if I start passing out or speaking Chinese or something, yeah, take me to the hospital.”

“First that cut on your leg and now this...” Mabel shook her head, “what am I going to do with you? I think Bill’s got the bad juju, you’re always getting hurt around him.”

“He does tend to make things fly into the air and/or explode,” he admitted.

“Is he still asleep?”

“Last time I checked.”

She took a long sip of her cocoa before speaking again.

“What’s going to happen if this ritual thing he’s got planned doesn’t work? What if he’s stuck in that body forever? It’s not like we can take him home with us.”

“We took Waddles home with us.”

“Waddles doesn’t stab himself in the leg with kitchen knives.”

“You’d think the holes in his hands and feet would be enough,” Dipper sighed.

“Never enough, kid!”

They looked toward the door as Bill tromped in. He was making a valid attempt to look normal, grinning that usual manic grin, wearing his dress clothes, complete with the new shoes and bow tie Mabel had brought back. But it was clear he was drained; he couldn’t hide the slight slump of his shoulders or the dark, troubled rings under his eyes. He threw a notepad on the table in front of them.

“What’s this?” Mabel asked, picking it up and studying it, “is this your handwriting, Bill? It’s _beautiful_ _!_ Will you write out some labels for my scrapbooks?”

“Nope! Won’t have time to, if I’m lucky,” he nodded toward the notepad before grabbing an apple out of the nearby fruit basket, “that’s a list of everything I’ll need for the ritual. Shouldn’t be too hard to find, even for you losers.”

“Let me see,” Dipper took the notepad from Mabel and skimmed it, “black candles, quartz, sage incense...unicorn hair? Why unicorn hair?”

“Security reasons. Unicorn hair will form a protective barrier over the ritual site. If things start to go flying, glass shatters, et cetera, et cetera, we should be safe underneath it. Not that _I_ mind so much, but Pine Tree’s sad little fleshy body doesn’t seem to be able to take much.”

“Hey!”

“You guys leave that to me,” Mabel grinned and cracked her knuckles, “I have a way of convincing unicorns to give up their hair.”

“Get on that, Shooting Star,” Bill took a huge bite of the apple and then spoke, muffled, around it, “and give ‘em a good right hook for me. Unicorns suck.”

“You got it!” without a second thought, she sprang from the table like an excited bunny and bounded out the door. Bill turned his gaze to Dipper, chewing slowly before he swallowed.

“How’s the head, kid?”

“Hurts. How’s the...everything, I guess?”

“Hurts,” Bill echoed. He sat heavily in Mabel’s vacant chair and downed the rest of her cocoa.

“I’m...sorry,” Dipper offered awkwardly. Bill looked at him for a moment, then took one of Dipper’s hands into both of his, staring at him in an intense way that made him a little uncomfortable.

“Pine Tree. I’m glad you’re not a vegetable.”

“I...uh...thanks, Bill. I’m glad I’m not either....you were actually worried about me?”

“Don’t let it get to your head,” he answered with a smirk. Dipper laughed.

“How can I not? How often do you get an ancient multi-dimensional entity worrying about whether or not your head is gonna be okay? So when exactly are you planning to have this ritual?”

“If we get everything today, we should be able to perform the rites tonight.”

“Tonight?” Dipper looked up from his mug, alarmed.

“What’s wrong, Pine Tree? Sad that I’ll be gone so soon?”

“No...” Dipper frowned stubbornly, then sighed. It wasn’t much use lying to Bill, “yes. A little bit.”

“The sooner the better. Sorry, kid. I really am.”

Dipper looked down at the table. Bill still held onto his hand, and Dipper did nothing to stop him.

“What do you need me to do?”

“First,” he jabbed his free finger at the notepad, “we need to gather up all these materials. Then later tonight, we’ll set up the banishment circle at the museum. The same place where I was bound to this body.”

“What do you need me and Mabel there for? Reciting spells or something?”

Bill gave Dipper a scrutinizing look, his eyes narrowed and nose crinkled.

“No. We won’t be needing Shooting Star. She can’t come.”

“What? Why not?”

Bill let go of Dipper’s hand and stood, starting to pace back and forth, hands laced behind his back. Dipper watched for a while, and when it became clear that Bill wasn’t going to talk, he spoke up.

“Uh, hello? Earth to Bill? Why can’t Mabel come?”

He stopped his pacing, staring at Dipper with a strange expression before sighing and holding his hands out, palms straight up in a defensive gesture.

“Okay, so. Here’s the thing. Hoo boy. This is about to get really awkward. Don’t pass out, all right? Because if you hit your head again, it might be the end for you, and then Fordsy will hunt me down for sure--”

“Bill.”

“Right. Okay. So...remember when I told you that sexual energy is often used for these types of rituals? Well! I’ve gone over the scenarios and our best bet for getting me out of this body is--”

“Oh my god,” Dipper interrupted, “Bill. No. No no no. No!”

“It’s the surest way--”

“I was right!!” Dipper stood, the chair scraping out from underneath him, pointing an accusatory finger at Bill, whose highly offended expression might have been hilarious under a different set of circumstances, “you _were_ planning on using me as a magical sex toy for your rituals!!”

“Relax, kid! I swear, I wasn’t planning on it! I mean, except now, yeah, I am kinda planning on it. But that’s a recent development! Super recent! As in, just this morning!”

“Have you been storing up power this whole time from...from when we do stuff?!”

“What? That’s not even how it works!”

“I knew there had to be a reason you were so touchy! I knew something was up!”

“Pine Tree, if you’d just--”

“I can’t believe I let you put your mouth on my di—mnffh!”

Dipper was suddenly silenced by Bill’s lips on his. He was a little surprised; he’d expected as some point that he’d be the one kissing Bill to shut him up, not the other way around. Hands gripped his shoulders gently and the kiss continued, more tender than what Dipper thought Bill was capable of. He couldn’t help but give in, give back. When Bill broke away, he didn’t let go of Dipper’s shoulders.

“Yeesh, kid. I thought you were paranoid before, but _damn_.”

“It’s a little suspicious. Even you have to admit,” he answered sullenly.

“Even I’ll admit it,” Bill nodded, “but seriously, as far as I can tell, it’s the best way. And I haven’t been messing around with you to ‘store energy’ or whatever nonsense you’re going on about. I’ve been doing it because it fucking feels amazing to this stupid mortal meatsack body. Besides...I was under the impression that you enjoyed our...time...together?” he slid a hand down Dipper’s shoulder and to his chest, eliciting a small moan.

“It’s really wrong and messed up, but...yes.”

“Then what’s the problem?”

“The problem!? The problem is...I...I mean, I assume you’re talking about like...actual, for real sex! Between us!”

“No, I was talking about mini-golf—of course I’m talking about sex! What else would it be?”

“I mean, you...what does that even entail?! We’d have...we'd do...and I’d be...you know...I’d be on the bottom?”

“You’d be the one getting penetrated, if that’s what you mean,” Bill said with a far too amused grin, making an ‘o’ with his thumb and forefinger and inserting the pointer finger of his other hand through it. Dipper blanched at the imagery, and at his expression, Bill added, “don’t worry! We’ll bring some whiskey or something. A few swigs and you’ll be way into it.”

“Oh my god!” Dipper exclaimed, throwing his hands into the air, “I can’t believe we’re even having this conversation!”

“I can!” Bill grinned, “besides, it’ll be great! Think about it, lots of fun, with the added benefit of finally getting me outta your hair. Sounds like a win-win to me.”

“Has it occurred to you that I’m like a million years younger than you?”

“Pfft, more than a million, kid! Try _billions_ of years younger than me! With an s! As in plural billions!”

“Not helping!” Dipper cried, “Bill! Listen, I just...sex is...it’s kind of a big deal! Maybe not to you, maybe not to a lot of humans even, but to me...I don’t know. I didn’t really want to lose my virginity while performing an occult ritual to free a captured demon. That’s not exactly...normal.”

“Kid,” Bill stepped forward and wrapped his arms around Dipper’s waist, pulling him closer, “you’re _not_ normal. You’re special. You always have been, always will be. So tell me, Pine Tree...what sounds better? Losing your virginity to some bimbo you don’t even like just because you think you have to to be considered a ‘man’, or losing your virginity to a multidimensional, quasi-omniscient entity in order to gallantly free him from eternal torture and imprisonment? I don’t know about you, but the second one sounds _way_ better.”

“The second one sounds a little fucked up,” Dipper said, a bright blush staining his cheeks. Was he really special? Did Bill really think so? “But I guess the first one is its own brand of fucked up too...”

“You’re smart,” Bill said appreciatively, “listen, if you don’t want to, I’m not gonna hound you about it. It just...” he gave a small shrug, “...it’s the best way. But I can try and think of something else.”

“You’re supposed to lose your virginity to someone that you love,” Dipper said after a long pause.

“You mean you don’t love me?” Bill gasped in mock surprise.

“I don’t even like you,” he snorted back. But when Bill leaned in to kiss him, he wound his arms around Bill’s neck and kissed him back.

“Gotta tell me now, kid,” Bill whispered against Dipper’s lips, “if it’s a no, I need to come up with something else. Quick.”

Dipper gazed back at the demon, bound in this small and skinny body with the mismatched eyes and the unruly blonde hair, skin marred with marks and wounds. He thought about the golden glowing figure he’d seen in the Mindscape, how it screamed. He thought about the refrigerator static of Bill’s body, the way the demon’s eye crinkled when he laughed. He thought about what a single one of Bill’s touches could do to him, how the intense pleasure had coursed through his body like lava. But mostly, he thought about, against all rationale, how much he’d miss Bill when he was gone.

“I’ll do it.”

* * *

Bill had been right; gathering the rest of the supplies was a simple task. The basement alone was a rich trove of everything they needed, from the black candles to the pyramid-shaped quartz sculptures, to more mundane things like matches and flashlights. By the time Mabel came back, covered in multicolored blood spatter and clutching a handful of silky rainbow strands, they had already gathered everything else they needed and stuffed it all into one of Dipper’s backpacks.

Then came the part Dipper had been dreading; telling Mabel she couldn’t come with them. Luckily, Bill seemed to have had it all planned out.

“Your uncles are gonna come back, and they’re probably gonna come back soon. They’ve obviously failed to stop that cult so far, and they won’t want to leave you two alone with mean old scary Bill for longer than they have to.”

“Aww, Bill...I don’t think you’re mean and scary. Well, no, nevermind. You’re totally mean and scary. But not as much anymore! Who’s a little sweetheart? You are!” she pinched his cheek and he humored her for a few seconds before continuing.

“Point is, if they got back tonight and found the place deserted, you two gone and me freed from that table, they’d go nuts. And the first place they’d look is the Museum. If they came in and interrupted the ritual, that’s it, it’d be all over. The mask’s power would be drained, I’d be helpless, they’d drag me back and lock me up, and probably...oh, I don’t know, ground you or something.”

“I don’t think they have the authority to do that anymore. Do they?” Dipper looked at Mabel for clarification and she shrugged in response.

“It’d be worse for me than it would be for you, believe me. That’s why I need you to stay here, Shooting Star,” Bill put his hands on her shoulders and looked her in the eye, “if they came back, you could defuse the situation. Talk your way out of it. You’re good at that! Unlike Pine Tree, who would just stammer and sweat the whole time and probably end up getting me killed all over again.”

“Hey!”

“He’s got a point, Dipper,” Mabel said, nodding, “okay, I’ll do it! This ritual isn’t going to be dangerous, is it?”

“Only for me,” Bill smiled, “but I laugh in the face of danger! Ha-hahaha!”

“More Lion King quotes?” Dipper asked with a raised brow. Bill grinned at him.

“You got it, kid! But seriously, it’ll be fine. We’ll begin at midnight, shouldn’t take more than an hour or two. Then Pine Tree can head back home and be in bed before the sun comes up.”

“Uh, I have a fairly important question,” Dipper raised a finger, “what’s gonna happen to this body once you’re out of it? Is it just gonna be like...dead on the floor, or…? Because I really don’t wanna be accused of murder.”

“A-hahaha! That would be so hilarious!!! But unfortunately, that’s unlikely. This body should dissolve or turn to ash once I’ve been freed. Note that I said ‘should’! There’s still a chance you’ll be accused of murder, and believe me, wherever I am, I’ll be laughing my non-existent ass off if you are!”

Dipper groaned and Mabel placed a sympathetic hand on his shoulder.

“We’ll find you a good attorney, bro-bro.”

* * *

 

Around 11:30 that night, Dipper shouldered his backpack and bid his sister goodbye. She gave Bill a long hug, tears in her eyes as she pulled away.

“Bill, you’re a terrible monster. But you’re _our_ terrible monster.”

“I feel the same way, Shooting Star,” he answered with a smile, giving her one last high-five before he and Dipper slid into the golf cart and began their drive to the Museum. It was nearing midnight when they arrived.

Their footsteps seemed louder than usual on the gleaming tiles of the museum floor. Dipper shone his flashlight at the walls, the ceilings, spaces in between displays, searching for hidden cameras or microphones. There weren’t any, of course, had never been, but this was the type of night he didn’t want caught on camera.

They passed the “Gravity Falls in the 1920s” display, and Dipper was alarmed (though not particularly surprised) to notice that the male mannequin they’d stolen Bill’s clothes off of was still naked. He elbowed Bill in the ribs and nodded toward it.

“You’re wearing that poor guy’s clothes,” he said. Bill snorted through his grin.

“You can give them back when I’m gone,” he answered as he kept moving. Dipper frowned a little, lowered his flashlight, lagged behind. Bill looked over his shoulder at Dipper, eyebrows raised and lips set in a concerned line. The two walked a few more steps in the darkness before Bill paused. Dipper nearly walked past him before the demon grabbed his hand and pointed toward an old baby grand piano that sat in the corner.

“It’s a piano,” Dipper remarked.

“Oh, is that what it is?” Bill asked dryly before sitting down at the bench. He patted the area beside him.

“Shouldn’t we be getting this over with? What if someone comes--”

“We have time. And no one’s gonna come but us. Sit down, Pine Tree.”

Blushing at the crude joke, Dipper heeded Bill’s request and sat next to him. Bill made a show of wiggling his fingers before setting them down on the yellowed keys and beginning to play a slow, simple melody.

“You can play the piano?” Dipper asked, though the answer was apparent. He watched Bill’s deft fingers move from key to key. Bill grinned but didn’t respond. Instead, he continued playing that soft tune, parted his lips, and sang.

“ _I’ll see you in my dreams,_

_Hold you in my dreams..._

_Someone took you out of my arms..._

_Still, I feel the thrill of your charms..._

_Lips that once were mine…_

_Tender eyes that shine…_

_They will light my way tonight…._

_I’ll see you...in my...dreams...”_

Bill finished off the song with a few more taps of the keys before finishing. The last note rang like a bell through the still night air, and the demon gazed at Dipper, a nearly human-looking smile on his lips. He put his palms to Dipper’s cheeks, brought him close, pressed their foreheads together.

“I’m going to miss you,” Dipper murmured before he could stop himself.

“I’ll be around,” Bill answered, and his voice was so soft that it was nearly not his own, “in some way or another.”

He slid one hand to the back of Dipper’s neck, pulling him forward to kiss him. It was gentle, smooth and soft and bittersweet.

When Bill leaned back, stood and pulled Dipper up with him, they both knew it was time. The two continued their trek down in to the ritual room, where Dipper unslung the backpack from his shoulder.

“You set the unicorn hair around the perimeter,” Bill drew a circle in the air with a finger before nodding toward the center of the room. The same center where he’d once lain, naked and impaled, “I’ll get to work on the zodiac.”

Dipper did as he was told, pulling glue and a plastic bag of unicorn hair from the backpack and getting to work pasting the fine, shimmering strands in a circle around the room. He glanced back at Bill, and immediately regretted it.

Bill was working on an entirely different kind of circle. He had removed the gauze from his hands and had done something (Dipper was actually relived to not know what) to aggravate his wounds, enough to where they trickled a steady flow of blood. He’d already drawn a large circle on the floor with the dark liquid, and now seemed intently focused on smearing out complex runes and symbols, using his pointer fingers as macabre paintbrushes. The blood flowed easy, thick, and Dipper had to force himself to look away before he began to feel ill.

They finished their tasks at about the same time, and Bill gave no pause before setting up the black candles and quartz around his scrawled blood zodiac. He lit them, one by one, and Dipper watched their little lights flicker in the stale air of the room. But it was when Bill pulled the bronze mask out of the backpack, placing it at the perimeter of the bloody circle, that Dipper’s heart began to beat a rapid tattoo.

This was really happening. He was going to have sex with Bill Cipher. _Wanted_ to have sex with Bill Cipher. Dipper had been sure his first summer in Gravity Falls would go down in history as his weirdest, but this had already topped the previous record. And it was only going to get weirder.

Bill stood in the center of the circle and removed his clothes, letting the fabric fall away, pool around his feet. Dipper remembered the first night Bill had been human, how he stumbled and swayed and could barely push himself up. He’d gained command of the body since then, learned how to carry it, not so much with grace, but definitely with a fair amount of confidence. Shoulders back, head held high. Bold. Beautiful.

Bill looked at Dipper from the center of the circle, silent. Thankfully, he’d rewrapped his hands in gauze, but he’d done a poor job and blood was blooming on the bandages as he crooked one finger toward Dipper, beckoning him. Dipper obeyed.

When he got to the center of the circle, Bill wasted no time in pulling off Dipper’s jacket, his shirt, pausing before he reached for Dipper’s pants to look him in the eye.

“Are you afraid?”

“No...just, you know...” he averted his eyes, studying a bloody line on the floor, “just...embarrassed, I guess.”

“Humans and their embarrassments!” Bill laughed and kissed Dipper’s ear, whispering into it in the way that made Dipper’s knees go weak, “nothing to be embarrassed about. I’ve seen it all before.”

“Which is messed up,” Dipper pointed out. Bill grinned at him and pulled his pants and boxers down.

“Being omnipotent means seeing everything, Pine Tree. Whether you want to or not.”

He knelt down and nuzzled Dipper’s inner thigh, placed light kisses up and down his hip. Dipper placed his hands gently on Bill’s head, watching that messy mop of golden hair, and his embarrassment gave way to bliss as Bill took Dipper into his mouth. He let his head fall back, moaning as Bill sucked him.

“Fuck...how the fuck are you...so good at that…?” he tangled his hands through Bill’s hair, “you’re not even supposed to have a mouth...”

Bill just chuckled around Dipper’s dick and the sensation nearly made the boy fall to his knees. He managed to steady himself, placing his hands on Bill’s bony shoulders. Bill gave a few more good sucks and pulled back, gazing up at Dipper with half-lidded eyes.

“I’m excellent at most things,” was all he said before he pulled Dipper down into a kiss, wrapping his arms around his neck. Dipper kissed back with vigor, welcoming the familiar feelings of warmth, of electricity, jolting through his body.

“I’m going to miss this,” Bill mumbled through the kiss, pulling Dipper tight against his body. Dipper gazed at the demon hazily. It wasn’t like Bill to be so earnest, and it made his heart ache.

Because he would miss it too.

Bill must’ve caught on to what he was thinking, because he stroked Dipper’s cheek.

“We’ll always have Paris,” he murmured before placing a gentle kiss on Dipper’s forehead. Right on his birthmark. It tingled pleasantly and Dipper snorted.

“Do you even know what that quote is from?”

“Do you?”

Dipper paused then shook his head in admittance. Bill smirked and pushed him forward until he lay on his back and Bill was over him, straddling him.

“Casablanca, kid. Get some culture, yeesh.”

“I don’t have an all-seeing eye that can watch every movie that ever existed all at once,” Dipper responded, distracted, as his hands roamed Bill’s chest.

“Actually, I’m not much of a movie buff. Reality’s already not real, why focus on fiction within fiction?” the demon gave Dipper another kiss and pressed their hips together. Dipper moaned and wound his arms around Bill, jerking his hips up, willing for any kind of friction against his hard and aching dick. He traced the binding marks on Bill’s chest, following the black patterns up to his shoulders, down his arms. The demon closed his eyes and gave a low groan, face flushing red. Dipper could feel that the demon was hard against him, and it sent a thrill through him; he remembered not too long ago in the dark basement, with Bill shuddering and moaning against him, how the lights had popped and Bill had howled with want. Dipper found himself surprisingly desperate to get Bill to that point again.

He heard the click of a bottle top and he didn’t need to look to know what it was; he felt the anxiety flare up in him again as Bill lifted one of Dipper’s legs over his shoulder. Bill gave Dipper a questioning look.

“Will it hurt?” Dipper breathed. Bill smiled and leaned forward, purring in Dipper’s ear.

“No, my little Pine Tree...I’ll take away the pain...you just relax.”

Dipper nearly remarked that that was easier said than done, but then Bill began slicking himself up with the lube and the sight made Dipper bite back any scathing remarks he had planned. One hand on Dipper’s ankle, the other wrapped around his own cock, eyes closed, head thrown back in pleasure. Soft mewls escaped his lips, and suddenly Dipper wanted nothing more than to touch the arched body above him. When Bill was done, he leaned forward, placed a kiss on Dipper’s thigh.

“Look into my eyes, Pine Tree...you’re safe...”

Dipper did as he was told and focused on Bill’s odd eyes. They were barely open, glazed with lust. The yellow eye cast an intense glow on Bill’s face, highlighting the sharp planes of his cheekbones, the smooth curve of his nose. The black eye seemed to reach its darkness toward Dipper, enveloping, comforting. In that moment, he knew no fear, no anxiety. Just the hold of the darkness and the aching warmth in his gut.

He gasped as Bill inched inside him, bit by bit. True to Bill's word, Dipper didn’t feel any pain. Rather, just the strange sensation of fullness...and the spark of what he could already tell was going to be monumental pleasure. Once Bill was flush with Dipper’s body, he gazed down at him, breathing heavily.

“Are you ready?” he asked in that voice that was so soft, it was nearly unfamiliar. Dipper already felt the fire pooling in his abdomen, the desperate need to feel more of the demon. He nodded.

Bill didn’t hold back. He started moving in and out of Dipper at a rapid pace, and the last coherent thought that Dipper had was that Bill wanted this for reasons more than just being freed.

Then Bill hit something inside him and the world exploded into a million little stars. He hit it again and again and Dipper lost all control, moaning, mewling, desperately grabbing at the demon above him, arching his hips, trying to get Bill deeper, more, he needed more. The pleasure flared inside him like a bonfire, so huge and so great that he could have sworn it was reaching beyond his body, filling the room with its heat, enveloping them both in an enormous pyre.

Above him, Bill tossed his head back and moaned, his fingernails digging into the skin of Dipper’s ankle, hard enough to draw blood, but neither noticed. Dipper’s back and Bill’s legs were already washed with blood from the zodiac that hadn’t yet had time to dry. What was a little more? Bill drove into him hard, fast, eyes barely open, watching Dipper writhe beneath him. Somewhere in the room, something shattered. Then something else, and another thing after that. Wind gusted through the drawn curtains, made the candles flicker and dance.

“Bill...” Dipper gasped, his eyes screwed up tight. He felt like he could lose his mind from the pleasure, and maybe he could. He was, after all, having sex with a mind-invading demon.

Bill let go of Dipper’s ankle, hunched over him, gathered him close as he continued thrusting.

“Pine Tree...” he whispered in Dipper’s ear and Dipper thought he might just die right there. He wrapped his arms around Bill, fingernails digging into the flesh of the demon’s back.

Bill gave a loud cry and the tubes lining the walls and ceilings began to rattle noisily before being wrenched out of place, hissing, creaking, bobbing against the wind.

The energy in the room grew and grew like a well-fed beast, humming loudly with static, with Bill and Dipper at the epicenter, lost to it all. Bill bit Dipper’s neck hard and he screamed, Dipper yanked at Bill’s hair and he yelped, and all around them the room was descending into beautiful chaos from the energy of their frantic lovemaking.

They came simultaneously, with high, keening cries, and the chandelier above them exploded into a million shards of light that poured off of the unicorn hair bubble like heavy rain over a sunroof. The wind didn’t die, the clattering of the pipes didn’t cease, and the whole place thrummed, violent with energy, reaching, ready to unleash.

They lay together for a while, panting, reeling. Trying to gather their breath and their wits. Bill pulled away from Dipper ever so slightly to look at him, assess him. Dipper looked back, dazed, nearly forgetting who he was, who Bill was, why they were here.

But Bill pulled out of him and stood, and Dipper was left empty and remembering.

He helped Dipper to his feet, guided him to the perimeter of the zodiac, and allowed him to sink back to his knees. His extremities weren’t quite up to the task of supporting him yet. Bill seemed to be faring little better; his legs wobbled as he made his way to the mask, stepping over marks made of his own blood before he scooped the thing up and secured it over his face.

He stood in the center of the circle and the energy around them seemed to pulse like a living thing. He spread his arms, arched his back, set his gaze to the heavens and began reciting spells. Blood had soaked through his poorly wrapped bandages, and now it ran in rivulets down his arms before dripping in dark splatters onto the floor.

It was a visceral, primal scene. Bill, naked and smeared with blood and the pearly evidence of Dipper’s release, arms spread wide, wearing that terrifying mask. His face pointed toward the heavens, chanting, commanding. White lightning blasted down from the ceiling, and the unicorn hair bubble above them dissolved like sugar in warm water. Blue fire sprang from the bloody scrawls of the zodiac on the floor, and Dipper nearly panicked before realizing that the flames licking his unclothed body didn’t hurt.

The lightning was more intense now, arcing through the air, popping and crackling, inches away. Bill intoned even louder, and Dipper could see the marks on his body glowing, hear the beginnings of an echo in his voice…

All of a sudden, there was a huge white flash; a massive blast of lightning battered into Bill then arced directly into Dipper. Dipper seized up involuntarily, and even as his vision cleared he felt a buzzing in his head, and his body, shocked and numb, refused to move.

The last thing he saw was Bill’s body collapsing heavily onto the floor, the mask falling off and clattering loudly beside him. Then everything went black.


	12. Another Way

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh man guys, sorry it's been a while. I was getting really burnt out with all things creative, so I took a break from writing/drawing, and it lasted longer than I anticipated. But now I'm slowly but surely getting back into the game.   
> Thank you for being so patient! This chapter is pretty short, but I'm working on the next one and should hopefully have it out to you soon! And as always, thank you so much for your kudos and comments!

Pain seared through his body. Stabbing pain, hot, tiny needles piercing each nerve cluster, the core of each cell. He struggled to open his eyes, and when the white spots in his vision finally cleared, he found himself staring into two blank holes and a gaping black mouth. Bill’s mask. He gazed at its silent shriek for a moment longer before struggling to train his vision beyond it, to Bill himself. The body lay out of his reach, blurry in his reeling sight.

Stiffly, Dipper pushed himself up and pain sprang anew throughout him. He was beginning to remember; an intense ritual. Energy building up, unleashing. Lightning. Bill, then him. Pain. Darkness.

His eyes roamed down to his own body, and he started when he saw his right arm. There were strange, branch-like burns etched like brands up and down the limb, from shoulder to knuckles. He remembered reading about this somewhere. Lichtenberg figures. Patterns that sometimes appeared on the skin of lightning strike victims. His arm was numb, but to his relief, he was able to move it, to wiggle his fingers.

He began to crawl toward Bill, dragging himself over the smeared blood on the floor. He was sure he already looked like a wreck; all blood and sweat and more bodily fluids than he’d like to think about at the moment. What was a little more?

Bill’s body was sprawled on the side, face angled toward the floor. As Dipper approached, he saw that Bill also bore the telltale Lichtenberg figures, branching down his left arm, standing bright red against the shock-pallid skin and the deep black binding marks.

_‘We match,’_ Dipper thought, disoriented, willing his head to stop swimming. He couldn’t focus. Everything hurt. But he had to see if the ritual had worked. His heart ached, his head pounded, his skin crawled with pain.

He had to see if it worked.

He rolled Bill gently so the body lay on its back. It was still warm.

“Bill…?” he croaked, putting a trembling hand to the pale cheek, brushing across those ridiculously long lashes, “Bill?”

Nothing.

Dipper dropped his hand, breathing heavily, willing himself calm. So it was done.

But then the body beneath him gave a low groan and its eyes shot open, wide and panicked.

One black, one yellow.

Bill.

He sat upright with a pained gasp, looking wildly about the room, then down at himself. He brought his hands up to his face, flexed the fingers, stared at the long-dried blood on his wounds, silent.

Dipper watched him, caught in the awkward space between disappointment and relief.

“Bill...” he began, but trailed off when he realized he didn’t have anything else to say. The demon didn’t even cast a glance his way, too preoccupied with his own flesh. Slowly, Bill began to shake his head, murmuring softly to himself.

“No...no no no...no...no!!! This wasn’t supposed to happen!” he pushed himself up, huffing with the effort, staring with increasing horror down at his still-naked body, “it was supposed to work! It was supposed to work!!!”

“We’ll find another way...” Dipper offered weakly, but his voice was just a hoarse croak. He wasn’t even sure Bill had heard him.

The demon was becoming frantic, whipping himself up into a rage. He kicked the extinguished candles, snatched up quartz only to hurl it back at the ground like a petulant child. He tore at his hair and let out a howl of frustration.

“It was supposed to _work_!! How could it not work?! Everything was in place! Everything was in place, everything was--damn it!”

“We’ll find--” Dipper began again, but abruptly shut his mouth when Bill rounded on him like a feral animal.

“YOU,” he said, pointing at Dipper with a bloody, shaking finger. His voice echoed, trembled, and his eye was red with fury, the glowing white slit of its center focused like a sniper’s crosshairs on the boy, “this is YOUR FAULT!”

“What?” Dipper asked, dazed and more than a little terrified. Bill looked ready to literally tear someone apart, his hands curled into tense claws as he stalked toward Dipper. This was more in line with the Bill Cipher he used to know, used to have nightmares about. Bloody and murderous, stalking toward him and seemingly ready to end his life right then and there.

“YOU ruined the ritual somehow! EVERYTHING WAS IN PLACE!! WHAT did YOU DO, PINE TR--”

Something crashed into Bill’s forehead with a loud thwack and the demon was knocked backward onto the floor, dazed and reeling. Whatever had hit him clattered to the floor loudly beside Dipper.

A grappling hook. He turned his aching head to look behind him.

Mabel stood in front of the parted curtains of the entrance, eyes blazing and finger still resting on the trigger. She clicked the switch that swiftly reeled the rope back in and wasted no time in running to Dipper, standing in front of him protectively. Her back was to him, but he could see her stance, tall, shoulders squared, fists clenched.

“Don’t you dare touch him, Bill,” she said, and her voice was quiet, cold, distinctly un-Mabel-like. Bill raised his head, ignoring the steady flow of blood streaming down his face.

“Shooting Star….” he growled in warning, his eye still a red ember.

“No!” Mabel barked, and it seemed enough to take Bill aback, his eye blinking from crimson to pale yellow once more. There was a tense silence, an awkward standoff. Bill didn’t move from his position on the floor. Mabel took a deep, shaking breath and continued.

”Listen, I don’t know what kind of...what kind of...weird ritual this was or what you two did, and I don’t _want_ to know. But I can see that my brother is hurt. And I won’t let him get hurt again.”

Ignoring the shocked expressions on both their faces, Mabel finally turned from Bill to gather up Dipper’s clothes, her mouth set in a grim line. When she was done, she began helping him put them back on, easing his legs through the holes of his shorts, his branded arm through his shirt.

“Its okay, Dip, the Alpha Twin is here to take care of you...” she murmured comfortingly. It would be an understatement to say that having his sister clothe him in his state was embarrassing, but Dipper didn’t resist. It all hurt too much, the burns, his head, Bill’s apparent fury. All the while, the demon sat sprawled, watching, silent.

Mabel helped Dipper up with a grunt, hooking his arm around her neck and supporting his waist with her free hand. She looked down at Bill with strange mixture of sadness and anger, an expression that set her usually cherub-like features into something more world-weary and adult.

“I thought you cared about us, Bill,” she sighed softly, “but Dipper’s hurt, and you were too busy throwing a tantrum to care. I’m taking him to the hospital, like I should have done the first time he got banged up hanging around you. I’m doing it because I love him. But I guess that’s something you couldn’t possibly understand. Here.”

Bracing Dipper against her with one hand, she fished around in her pockets with the other before pulling out her oversized sunglasses. She threw them at Bill and they skittered to a stop at his feet.

“Go back home, Bill. Stop acting like a spoiled brat and go back home. We’ll figure out what to do once I know my brother is going to be okay.”

She turned, helping Dipper along, and slowly led him out of the room. Before the two vanished beyond the curtains, Dipper glanced woozily over his shoulder at Bill.

Bill just sat, flabbergasted, among the blood and the glass, unable to do anything but watch them go.

* * *

 

It was a good time later before Bill finally left the museum. He had spent nearly an hour sitting on the floor among his own blood and the ruins of the ritual, thinking. Finally, he’d managed to gather his wits about him and erase all evidence of the ritual, cleaning himself of as much blood as he could and redressing before stepping out into the bright, warm Oregon morning. Even under Mabel’s sunglasses, he squinted against the sun beaming down onto the gleaming asphalt. With a resolved sigh, he stepped off the museum stairs and onto the sidewalk, beginning his trek back to the Mystery Shack.

He briefly considered disobeying Shooting Star, going anywhere else but where she called “home”. What was the point? The ritual hadn’t worked, he wasn’t sure what else would. Maybe it was time to leave. Take matters into his own hands. Track down that cult, maybe try to kill them before they could capture him again. It was a risk, but he was getting desperate.

But Shooting Star, as much as it pained Bill to admit, was right. Pine Tree was hurt, and it was more or less his fault. Bill tried to convince himself he wasn’t being sentimental. He owed it to the kid to at least make sure he was all right.

He watched his feet as he walked. What a sad sight he must have been. Just another weak human, head bowed, hands stuffed in pockets, shambling aimlessly down some podunk town street. Purposeless. Powerless.

“Hey, Bilbo!”

An old red pickup pulled up beside him and Wendy leaned out the driver’s side window, giving Bill a friendly wave, “whatcha doing, man? On your way to the Shack? I can take you there, if you want.”

Bill paused and gave her a long look. Then, without really knowing why, he walked around the truck and slid into the passenger side. The woman began driving again, talking over the brain-addling noise that she and her ilk called music.

“I told Soos and Melody I’d help them out with some new attractions today, so I was on my way there anyway. How’s it hangin’, man?”

He gave her a miserable glare that she likely couldn’t see through the heavy tint of Mabel’s sunglasses. Wendy continued, nonplussed.

“Oh yeah, I forgot that you like, can’t talk or whatever. Hey, uh, are you okay?” she gestured toward his hands, bare and bloody, “you should really go to a doctor for that. Your forehead is all jacked up, too. Did you get those fighting monsters? Dipper and Mabel are kinda like the resident monster-fighting badasses around here. You won’t believe this, but they even managed to help take down this all-powerful chaos demon! Okay, now you must think I’m crazy.”

Bill stared at her, then sunk deep into the passenger seat, arms crossed.

“I know, I wouldn’t believe me either. Has Dipper taken you to see that creepy old statue in the middle of the woods? That’s the only proof left. Urban legend has it, if you shake the statue’s hand, the demon will reappear and want to make a deal...spooky, right? But I guess, uh, I’m kinda breaking the law by telling you about all that. The mayor kinda forbid anyone ever mentioning it ever again. But like, if we hide the past...I don’t know. Who’s going to protect the future?”

Bill grimaced and stared at his lap, bitterly thinking of the statue and how shaking its hand did not, in fact, do anything at all. They continued in silence for a few more moments before she spoke again.

“Kinda weird talking to a mute guy. Makes things a little...one sided? Hey, I wanted to tell you, you’re really lucky.”

Bill’s snort of contempt was much louder than he had meant it, but it did have the effect of making Wendy jump slightly, which he found gratifying.

“Okay, so, maybe not _super_ lucky. I mean, being mute and living in a hole or whatever has got to suck. I meant you finding Dipper. He’s a great guy, y’know? I’m glad he, I don’t know, has someone now. He deserves the best.”

Bill set his mouth into a thin line, staring at the deep wounds on his hands until the truck came to a stop and Wendy unbuckled her seat belt.

“Well, we’re here. Hey, maybe sometime later today we can all hang?”

They exited the vehicle and Wendy gave a short wave before heading into the Shack’s gift shop area. Bill watched her go, then skirted around the other side of the building to enter the foyer. He stood in the doorway, staring into the empty old Shack.

He remembered when Ford had built the thing; he’d been watching even then. The Shack felt as much as a home to him as anything did; but ultimately, it wasn’t. He had no home, probably never would, no matter how nice Pine Tree and Shooting Star had made it seem.

He considered heading into the basement, pouring over Ford’s notes again. Trying to find something he had missed. But he was drained, tired, and, if he was going to be honest with himself, afraid. He was stuck in his weak, wounded body, at the mercy of mere humans. They could take what they needed from him at any moment, without warning, without fail, could rend him in two and leave him, broken and pained, able to do nothing but rebuild. Until the cycle repeated itself. Over and over and over again. And now, on top of it all, he was alone.

All because he couldn’t keep his temper in check.

So, he did one of the few human things he actually approved of; he sought out Stanley’s liquor cabinet, grabbed a full bottle of whiskey, and proceeded to get absolutely fucking plastered.

* * *

 

The sound of movement outside jolted Bill from his drunken stupor. He at up on the couch, the now nearly-empty bottle still clutched in one hand.

‘ _Pine Tree,_ ’ was all his muddled mind could put together. He and Shooting Star had come back. Now, he supposed, was his time to...what was it called again? Apologize. That, and ensure that Pine Tree was okay.

Why did he care anyway?

“Stupid puny one lifespan meat puppets…” he slurred to himself as he stumbled his way to the front door. The sound of the porch steps creaking on the other side of the doorway was distant and dulled by the alcohol. His vision swam. There were three doorknobs and it took him a moment to grab the real one. He wrenched the door open wide, ready to defend himself, explain himself to Shooting Star, and yes, _apologize_.

Standing on the porch in front of him, looking battered and tired, but no less aghast, were Stanley and Stanford Pines.

They gawked at Bill, mouths agape, and Bill stared back before uttering two simple words.

“Oh shit.”


	13. A Step Below Human

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oooooh my god, you guys, I am so sorry it's taken so long! I've had a lot of personal troubles lately that I won't get into, but never once did I forget about you guys or this story.  
> Tomorrow, I'll be leaving to travel for work again, so I wanted to go ahead and give you another chapter before then, if only to let you know that, YES! This story is still going! This chapter is a little short, but hopefully my life will be straightened out by the time I get back home and the next chapter will be longer. Thank you SO much for your kudos and especially your comments, I love to hear from all of you and it really helps to know that people are enjoying this. Hedgehog Mom loves you!

They all three gaped at one another for what seemed like hours. Then, without even realizing what he was doing, Bill slowly reached forward, took hold of the door, and slammed it hard in the men’s faces.

He backed away, staring at the closed entry with wide eyes, swaying slightly as his muddled mind considered what was happening.

But he didn’t have long to consider much of anything, as a focused laser blast exploded through the door, just barely missing his head. He dropped the whiskey bottle, spilling dark liquid and shattered glass all over the floor, and turned to run just as Stan kicked down the remains of the door and the older Pines twins charged in. Bill skittered to the side as another laser blast punched into the wall behind him.

He was giving himself a drunken, mental congratulations for managing to dodge that, when two rounds of hot lead seared through his hip and three more through his shoulder. He stumbled and gasped, feeling the warm blood begin to stain his clothing. Bill noted with bitterness that physical pain had long since lost its novelty; there was nothing euphoric or refreshing about this. It was agony, crippling, setting his nerves ablaze. Despite his injured hip, he continued the desperate scramble away from the older Pines twins as they continued their assault.

There was only one way out. He tore through the living room and barreled through the door leading into the gift shop. It was, not surprisingly, mostly empty, save for Soos, Melody and Wendy. The three looked up in frozen shock as Bill skittered through, making his way to the exit as fast as he could manage, leaving a wet, red trail behind him.

“Soos!” Stanley’s voice rasped from somewhere behind him, “don’t let him out!”

At that order, the big man threw himself in front of the doorway in what Bill could only figure was some sort of heavily-ingrained Pavlovian response. Unable to stop his momentum, Bill crashed into Soos and fell back onto the hard floor. Before he could so much as blink, a muddy boot was pressing hard to his chest and twin gun barrels, laser and lead, were staring him down.

“Dude!” Wendy exclaimed, shocked, “Mr. and Mr. Pines, what are you guys doing? What did Bilbo ever do to you?”

“What nonsense are you speaking, girl?” Stanford barked, eyes not leaving Bill, who lay squirming, eyes clenched in pain, on the floor in a rapidly growing pool of his own blood.

“Uh, you got something against the little dude, or…?” Soos asked carefully.

“He’s hurt! He needs a hospital!” Melody gasped in horror, making a move toward them.

“You three are shitting me, right?” Stanley huffed and gave Bill a none-too-gentle kick in the side, earning an indignant yelp, “you know who this is, right?”

“Uh, yeah, dude,” Wendy said, “Dipper’s boyfriend.”

“Boyf—what?” Ford asked incredulously, “where in the world did you get that idea from? No. This person...this _monster_ , is Bill Cipher in the body of a human.”

There was a tense quiet in the room, all eyes on Bill, before the three younger people exploded into a chorus of exclamation.

“That explains his voice,” Soos clutched at his own face, horrified, “an-and his freaky eyes! How did I not realize—he’s—it was him the whole time?”

“That triangle guy?” Melody asked, face scrunched in confusion.

“You guys gotta be messin’!” Wendy strode forward, “this is the guy who was hanging out with Dipper and Mabel! It definitely is! He can’t be Bill.”

“See for yourself,” Ford answered. His boot never leaving Bill’s chest, he bent down and grabbed the demon by the chin, forcing his face toward Wendy, “open your eyes, Cipher, and say something. Show her who you really are.”

Captured, beaten, done for. Bill figured he didn’t have a choice. He slowly opened his eyes, his one pupil trained on Wendy, contracting to a thin line as it watched her recoil in terror and confusion.

He stared blearily before beginning to laugh.

“Ha...haha...hahaha...HAHAHAHAHAHA!” his body shook with the manic laughter, he clenched his eyes tight, tears rolling down the sides of his face, and brought his hands up, waving them about in a mocking manner, “oh no, it’s _Bill!_ So scary! Even though he’s been here for weeks and hasn’t harmed a precious hair on anyone’s head!”

“Enough lies, Cipher!” Ford growled, pressing his boot harder into Bill’s chest. The demon’s laughter choked in his throat and he grabbed at Ford’s ankle, trying unsuccessfully to push the man’s foot away.

“I mean... it is true, though,” Soos said uncertainly, “he’s been hangin’ around Dipper and Mabel for a while and they’ve been fine,” he looked to Wendy for help and the woman, her eyes finally leaving Bill’s, nodded slowly.

“I saw them all out shopping just a couple of days ago. Dipper and Mabel were….they seemed okay...”

Stanley and Stanford looked at one another for a moment before Ford set his mouth into a grim line.

“Brainwashed, or something like it. Likely how he got freed from the Desk in the first place. We shouldn’t have left those kids with him...I’ll not make that mistake again.”

“Where are they, you demonic freak of nature?” Stanley growled, “where are the kids?”

“Why should I tell you, Earlobes?” Bill asked with a bleary grin. The trauma, the booze, the blood loss, it was all becoming too much for this body to stand. He felt cold, his thoughts more and more disjointed. He couldn’t feel his limbs, only the foot on his chest and the burning of the bullet wounds.

The last thing he saw was Stan reaching back to punch him. Before the blow even landed, Bill was unconscious.

 

* * *

 

 

He was still groggy when he woke, but he knew immediately where he was. Limbs splayed, dark ceiling above, enchanted iron burning his wrists. The Desk of Gaap. Trapped, once again. He opened his eyes slightly. Shifting shapes in the corner came into view as he focused. Stanley, Standford, Soos and Wendy.

_‘Gang’s all here’_ , he thought, and giggled silently, deliriously, to himself.

“I have no idea where they are, the last time I saw them was downtown, a couple days ago,” Wendy whispered, her voice harsh with worry.

“Both their phones are here,” Stan grumbled, his voice choked, “stupid kids, always playing on the damn things but never using them for their actual fucking purpose. Damn, stupid kids...”

“Don’t worry, you two,” Ford answered, not much bothering to keep his voice low, “Dipper and Mabel are smart. I’m sure they’re...they’re okay, wherever they are.”

But even he couldn’t keep the concern out of his usually steady, measured voice.

“He knows,” came the low growl of Stanley’s voice, “he’s gotta know.”

“I can’t believe I’m saying this,” Wendy answered, “but take it a little easy on him. He can’t tell us jack shit if he’s not conscious.”

“We have a way to make him talk.”

Bill’s blood ran cold at Ford’s remark, but part of him (okay, who was he kidding, all of him) was intrigued. Make him talk? The Desk of Gaap was painful when activated, sure, but it wasn’t enough to torture him into doing much of anything if he didn’t want to. Truthfully, he’d been about to volunteer information on the twins before Ford’s remark; now his stubborn nature was kicking in and it’d be a cold day in Hell before he told these jerks anything.

As if hearing his thoughts, Stan and Ford turned to look at the demon.

“Well, look who’s finally awake,” Stan said in a voice like strained venom. They wasted no time in marching toward Bill, who tried to warn them off with a combative hissing noise.

“That’s all?” Ford asked, a bushy eyebrow cocked in surprise, “a hiss? Is that how low you’ve fallen, Cipher? All that posturing and now you’re acting like a mere animal. A step below human.”

Bill spit in Ford’s face, mainly because he’d seen people spit on other people before and it looked fun, but also to see what the man would do.

The saliva was tinged red.

Stan lunged forward, his fist raised, before Ford threw an arm out to stop him.

“Stanley, no! Wendy’s right, if we want him to talk, we need him awake.”

Ford pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped at his face as Stan reluctantly backed off, still glowering down at Bill. Bill just smiled wanly at him.

“Where are the kids, Bill?” Ford asked evenly, tucking the handkerchief back.

“Dunno,” he lied stubbornly, “but I didn’t do anything to them. They’re fine.”

‘ _Maybe,’_ he thought to himself, with a strange twinge of guilt.

“I don’t believe either of those things. One more warning, Cipher. Tell us where Dipper and Mabel are.”

“Or what?” Bill spat in response. Ford gazed evenly down at him for several long seconds before heaving a tired sigh. He reached into the interior of his jacket and pulled out a familiar book; red leather adorned with a golden, six-fingered hand. The number 5 stood out in thick black ink against the golden handprint. Ford began to thumb through his newest journal. Bill watched warily.

“We found the cult that bound you, Cipher. We managed to steal a good bit of information from them before they accessed your power remotely and used it to attack us. Blew apart the ruins we were in, we narrowly escaped with our lives. That’s when we decided to retreat, come back here, check on the kids, sort through this information.”

“Hey, good for you...” Bill answered slowly, his curiosity slowly being replaced by a creeping sense of dread. There was a tone in Ford’s voice that was almost as sad as it was dangerous, and it was enough to make the hair on the back of Bill’s neck stand on end.

The old man evidently found the page he wanted and skimmed over it with sharp but tired eyes, then looked at Bill. There was history in that gaze, and it made Bill almost miss the days when they were partners.

Or maybe that was the alcohol and the blood loss talking.

“We found the incantation they use to harness your power. I believe they’ve done this a handful of times since you’ve gotten trapped in that body, haven’t they? I know it’s not pleasant for you.”

“You wouldn’t dare,” Bill growled, but his voice came out smaller and more broken than he had intended.

“Oh we sure would, you equilateral jerk,” Stan snapped back, “if Ford is right, using this spell, we don’t even need to keep you locked up. Your own power can do that for us.”

“It has the added benefit of making you more compliant,” Ford added, “I don’t want to do this, Bill. But you’ve threatened my family for the last time. Where are the kids? What did you do with them?”

“They’re fine!” he turned his eye toward Wendy and Soos, who watched uncomfortably from the corner of the room, “Big Guy, Red! Tell ‘em! Shooting Star and Pine Tree have been fine this whole time, I haven’t done shit to them!”

“Where are they, Bill?” Ford barked, not giving the two younger people a chance to respond. Bill’s eye flashed back to him, the gears of his mind turning wildly to try and figure a way out.

He couldn’t tell them that the twins were at the hospital. How would that look?

“They’re in town. They’re fine!”

“Let’s find out for sure, then,” Ford said, and to Bill’s horror, he began to read the spell.

 

* * *

 

  
“Want a lollipop, Dipper? The nurse gave me like ten of them to give to you.”

Mabel steered the old golf cart with one hand, holding her other hand under Dipper’s nose to display the wide variety of Tootsie Roll Pops.

“They didn’t give you any of those, Mabel,” Dipper sighed, “you stole them when she wasn’t looking. I saw.”

“Well they shouldn’t leave them out in the open like that,” Mabel huffed and stuffed the candy back into her purse, “besides, it’s impossible to steal candy. Access to candy is a universal right. It should be free, like air!”

She rested her hand back on the steering wheel, her eyes trained on the dirt road before her. Dipper would have much preferred to drive, but the doctors had given him a dose of painkiller and bandaged his burned arm in a stiff mass of bandages; at this point, it was marginally safer to let Mabel drive.

She’d been uncharacteristically quiet on the way to the hospital, all the way up to the point when the doctors had informed her Dipper would be just fine. A concussion, burns, shock, but all minor. At that point, her natural vibrancy had come flooding back and she’d shared countless hugs with the nurses and a couple of high-fives with other patients. But now she was quiet again, and, when she did speak, her voice struggled to find purchase over the sounds of their bumpy cart ride.

“Dip...” she began slowly, “I really don’t want to know what you guys were doing in there. But...you know I have to ask.”

“A ritual,” Dipper answered blandly, staring sidelong at the trees whipping by.

“I know that,” Mabel had the decency not to sound annoyed, but her voice held a note of worried frustration, “you were both...I don’t...did you like...do stuff with him…?”

Dipper closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the seat, sighing. It was really no use lying to her at this point. Mabel was smarter than she let on, and if he didn’t tell her the truth, there was a good chance her overactive mind would imagine something more horrific than what actually happened.

“Yeah. We did.”

Mabel nodded an unsurprised nod to herself, her eyes never leaving the road.

“Okay...like...sex stuff…?”

“We had...uh...sex. Yeah...”

“...was it...was that what...you wanted…? Or...”

“It was consensual,” Dipper was quick to confirm, “totally consensual. I know it looked bad, especially since he was freaking out when you came in, but...yeah. He never forced me to do anything I didn’t want. We...I guess we’ve kind of been...um...messing around anyway...”

“Bill really _is_ your boyfriend?!” Mabel gasped, whipping around to stare at Dipper with wide eyes, nearly careening the cart off the road in the process. Dipper clung to the safety handle in panic, and once Mabel righted the cart, he answered.

“No! I mean...not really! We’ve been...you know...making out and stuff...but he’s not my boyfriend! It just...it’s complicated!”

“I don’t know if I should be super impressed or super freaked out,” Mabel mused, but the smirk on her face definitely lent credence to her being impressed. Dipper shrugged

“He’s been nice to me. Sweet. Gentle, really. I think he’s changed. What you saw in there, what happened...he was just upset because the ritual didn’t work...”

“Maybe, but he needs to learn that part of being human means not having a temper tantrum when things don’t go your way,” Mabel pointed out. Dipper acknowledged his agreement with a slight nod of the head before he leaned back and closed his eyes, sighing.

“I don’t know what we’re going to do if we can’t free him from that body.”

“Guess you’ll have a boyfriend to take back to California,” Mabel chirped. Dipper was about to argue, but as they pulled up to the Mystery Shack, Mabel let out a gasp. Dipper opened his eyes.

Stan’s car was parked in front of the house.

“Oh no,” Dipper said softly. Mabel stared, then offered Dipper a panicked grimace that was trying desperately to masquerade as a reassuring smile.

“I’m sure it’s okay, bro-bro. I bet Bill isn’t even here. I mean, I told him to come back here. Like he’s really going to listen to me, right?”

But when they made their way to the entrance, they saw the door broken and blasted off its hinges. Their wide eyes followed the destruction, the broken glass and whiskey on the floor, the holes in the wall. The blood on the floor, wide smears of it, leading through the basement door and down the rickety old stairs.

And even though several yards separated them from the basement, they could feel thrumming beneath their feet and the distant echo of a familiar, pained voice.


	14. Insult to Injury

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back from my work trips and finally got around to finishing another chapter! Heeeyyy look who isn't a total failure! This guy! As always, thank you so much for your kudos, comments and encouragement. This fic has gone on for a lot longer than intended, but I'm glad I have you guys to keep pushing me through it!

They barreled down the stairs leading into the basement, having paid a shocked Melody little mind even as she yelled their names and tried to reach for them as they ran past. With each step, the atmosphere grew more oppressive, the thrumming more intense, the smell of ozone more distinguished. The twins didn’t speak to one another. They didn’t need to. They had one task; getting to Bill as quickly as possible.

The two reached the basement bottom and darted through the cramped hallways. They finally crashed through the doorway of the small room that held the Desk of Gaap, skidding to a stop to avoid crashing into Soos and Wendy.

“Dudes?” Soos asked, eyes wide.

“You guys! You’re okay!” Wendy gasped, pulling them into a brief hug before turning to look toward Stan and Ford, “guys!! They’re here! They’re okay!”

But her voice was drowned out by the howling of the wind, the rustle of loose papers, and the peculiar garbled words spilling from Bill’s mouth. They echoed against the walls in his weird and breathless voice.

Ford stood over the shackled demon, muttering a spell from his open journal, his own body glowing a faint blue.

Soos’ hand on Dipper’s shoulder did little to stop him. The boy lunged forward, knocking the journal out of Ford’s hands and standing like a shield in between his great uncle and the prone demon. Ford faltered in his incantation, and, like a switch being flicked off, the glow dissipated, the wind died, and Bill’s strange chants faded. Stanley, who had been standing off to the side, gaped at Dipper, at a rare loss for words.

“What the--” Ford’s eyes roamed wildly once he was snapped out of the spell, before finally settling on Dipper, “Dipper! You’re...you’re here! You’re okay! My boy...”

Ford gathered Dipper up in his arms, pulling him into a hug, but Dipper bitterly pushed him away. The man stared back, hurt and alarmed.

“What were you doing to him?” Dipper snapped before hazarding a glance back at Bill. The demon lay shivering, his eyes half-open and unfocused. Even in the dim light, Dipper could see the blood on him, could smell it, coppery among the ozone. He turned back to the old men with renewed fury, “what have you done to him?!”

“Dipper!” Stan exclaimed, moving forward, “what’s gotten into you, boy? This is Bill! Come on, you know that!”

“Yeah, I know that!” Dipper shot back, “and I also know that _you know_ what that spell does to him! You’re torturing him! You’re hurting him on the...on the deepest level and you _know_ that!”

“Dipper,” Wendy took a cautious step forward, concern on her voice, “Bill has tortured your family. He’s tortured nearly everyone in town in some way or another. This is...”

“What? What were you going to say?” Dipper challenged, too angry and too hurt to feel cowed by all the incredulous eyes staring at him, “that he deserves to be tortured? That he deserves to be hurt? If you think that, you’re no better than he was...and...and besides, he’s changed! He’s been good!”

“Brainwashed,” Ford said gruffly with a slight shake of the head, and Dipper rounded on him.

“I’m not brainwashed! He’s been free and able to do what he wants since the day you guys left, and he hasn’t done anything wrong. He even saved my life!”

“Because he _needs_ you, boy!” Ford shot back, “what have you two been doing with him this entire time?”

“Eating candy and chasing owls...” Mabel murmured, twirling a lock of her hair nervously, “but mostly trying to help him free himself from this body...”

“Well there you go,” Stan growled, crossing his arms with a scowl.

“He’s been--” Dipper started, but was forced to stop as Ford barked an interruption.

“Dipper! A demon that has been summoned and imprisoned by humans can’t get free by itself, or even with the help of another demon! It needs a human, the same species that imprisoned it in the first place, to set it free! Bill was using you.”

“No,” Bill’s voice sounded from behind them, weak and soft, but insistent, “don’t listen to him, kid.”

“You stay out of this!” Stan yelled, raising a fist. Mabel rushed forward to stop him.

“No, Grunkle Stan!”

“Mabel! You too?! Kids! Have you lost your goddamn minds!? And your arm, Dipper. What happened? Is that Bill’s fault? Bill do that to you?”

“No!” Dipper faltered, eyes darting from Ford to Stan to Mabel, never quite knowing where to rest. Quickly, he stammered his way on, “no, I mean….maybe, but not really—it was an accident. He wasn’t trying to hurt me!”

“Of course he was trying to hurt you, he’s _Bill!_ ” Stan snarled back in response.

“He wasn’t! We were performing a ritual, we were trying to free him from this body and...the energy buildup or something got out of hand, and there was lighting—he didn’t do anything wrong. Look...he doesn’t wanna hurt anyone. All he wants is to be free of that cult, you know what they’re doing to him!”

“Listen to the kid,” Bill sneered at the two older men, “he’s actually smart. Unlike you t--”

Stan slapped a thick section of duct tape over Bill’s mouth, watching with satisfied disdain as the demon grunted and struggled against his bonds, eye flashing angrily up at him.

“That’s enough outta you. Now what the hell we going to do about this, Ford? ….Ford?”

Stanford stood, a hand to his chin, studying Dipper with intense scrutiny. He had been for several moments now, and it made Dipper highly uncomfortable. Some sort of understanding flashed behind the man’s eyes, some sort of realization, and Dipper knew he had said or done something very wrong.

“...a ritual you say, Dipper?”

“...yes...” the boy answered cautiously, trying to ignore the sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach.

“...we need to speak. Privately.”

At that, the sinking feeling turned into more of a plummeting-off-a-300-foot-cliff feeling.

He had said too much. Ford had figured it out. Of course he had.

“Stanley, I want you and Mabel to stay here. Keep an eye on Bill. Soos, Wendy. You two should leave.”

“But what if you need us?” Soos asked.

“I sincerely doubt that’ll happen,” Stan answered gruffly.

“Come with me, Dipper,” Ford said stoically, turning to walk out of the room. Dipper looked at him, then peeked over at Bill. Bill’s eyes were wide and he shook his head back and forth, trying to proclaim through the heavy adhesive on his mouth.

With fresh guilt added to his panic, Dipper turned from Bill, the demon’s unintelligible pleas on his ears, and followed Ford to the shrine room. Ford switched on the light and shut the door behind them. He paced for a silent moment before standing in front of Dipper, intelligent eyes boring into him.

“Tell me about this ritual.”

“I...i-it was to...free him from the human body he’s bound to. So the cult couldn’t--”

“I know what it was for. You already admitted you were trying to unbind him. What I want are the details. Where. When. What.”

“It...it was at the history museum. The same place where he was bound. Um...last night. We found the mask you brought home...the one that looks like it’s screaming? And used that as some sort of...power source. There was fire and lighting and...the lightning hit Bill, then me. My arm was burned, so Mabel took me to the hospital….its not bad, I promise. And the ritual didn’t work, obviously. That’s...that’s it.”

Ford continued gazing at Dipper for several long seconds before speaking.

“No, Dipper, I don’t think that’s it. I’m familiar with this type of ritual, and I’m sure Bill knew what he was doing. There’s one part you’re leaving out.”

“N-no! That was it,” Dipper struggled to steady his voice, sound confident, despite the beads of sweat forming on his skin.

“You had sex with him, didn’t you.”

It was phrased more as a statement than a question, and rightly so. Dipper knew that Ford knew the answer. There was no way around it. He could feel himself turning bright red. He looked at his feet, wishing to be anywhere else in the world right now.

After what seemed to be eternities of silence, he answered.

“...yes.”

Ford’s reaction was not one that Dipper had anticipated. The man just heaved a heavy sigh, pulled Dipper against him, and hugged him tightly. After a near minute, Ford gently took hold of Dipper’s shoulders, pulling away to look at him. He looked sad. Sad and old and tired.

“Grunkle Ford, it was okay. Really. This is really weird to talk with you about, but...I wanted to do it. And not just to free him, I...wanted it. He...he didn’t make me, he even said he’d try and find another way if I wasn’t comfortable with it. I agreed to it willingly.”

“...I know, Dipper. That’s why this is so...upsetting.”

“...what do you mean?”

“Dipper...” the man let go of him, placing his hands behind his back and gazing up at the tapestries thoughtfully, “have you developed...feelings, for Bill? You can answer me honestly. I’m not going to judge you, far from it. I just need an honest answer.”

“...no, I...” he started, but at the sight of Ford’s arched eyebrow, he bowed his head and continued, “...yes. I...have. He uh...didn’t seduce me or anything like that. I’m not brainwashed. He just...he really has been good, I promise. He’s been mostly nice, and he did save my life, and he’s shown me--”

“--things you’ve never seen before?” Ford finished, catching his great nephew aback, “Answered your questions about the mysteries of the universe? Complimented you? Made you feel special?”

“….well....yeah, I guess...but—you think this is similar to what happened to you?” he asked, catching on, “when he lied about being a muse?”

“Dipper, this is _exactly_ like what happened to me. Bill wasn’t just my muse, he was my...everything. I loved him. I was in love with him.”

“...I’m sorry, what?” Dipper asked, sure he had misheard. Ford turned and looked Dipper in the eyes, his tone leaving no room for misunderstanding.

“I was in love with Bill. My first love. And, I think understandably, my last. This remains between you and I, Dipper. It’s...embarrassing on a multitude of levels. Shameful. If your Grunkle Stan knew...” Ford trailed off, looking away from the boy to one of the idols that stood on the shelves, “...he didn’t even have a body. He didn’t even look human, which makes it...worse. More disturbing. But I loved him, desperately. He was this...fantastic being, this thing I wanted to give myself to wholly. He was my god, and I wanted to worship him in every way.”

Dipper’s blood ran cold. Hadn’t he felt the same at times, when he and Bill had been kissing and nipping and panting? The feeling that Bill was a beautiful god to be worshiped. An ancient unknown that he had wanted to merge with, become a part of...

“...and he knew?” 

“Oh yes. He knew. And he ‘admitted’ to having feelings for me as well. He said he wanted to be with me as much as I with him, that the portal would allow him to become physical, change his shape, so we could live a life together. A heinous lie, obviously. An eggplant has more capacity for love than Bill Cipher does. When I discovered his true plans….I was crushed.”

“...what did he say when you confronted him?”

“What I’ve learned to expect from him since. He met my sorrow and outrage with nothing but laughter and mockery. Of course, breaking my heart wasn’t enough for him. Every time I fell asleep, he was there, rubbing my mistake in my face. Every voice I heard on the wind, every eye I saw, was his. Insult to injury, Bill’s specialty.”

“....he hasn’t hurt me or Mabel. He--”

“--had no reason to hurt you. Like I said, he needed you. Which in a way is actually lucky. If he hadn’t, you and your sister may very well be dead. ...he knows what he’s doing, Dipper. He’s had eons to perfect manipulation. He knows every single string to pull, every button to push, to drive a human into doing exactly what he wants, and he doesn’t mind hurting people in order to achieve his goals. Heck, he enjoys it.”

P I n e T r E E

Dipper’s eyes widened at the vocal intrusion, but Ford didn’t seem to notice.

“It’s difficult, Dipper. I know it is. And I’m sorry. But Bill is absolutely incapable of love. This is all just a game for him. Believe me, you and I weren’t the first to be tricked by him this way...and if he goes free, we won’t be the last.”

P I n e T r E E

The voice came again, almost pleading. Dipper tried to shake it out of his head. How many people had Bill seduced throughout the ages? How many humans had he charmed into doing terrible things, only to break their hearts?

Ford must have taken Dipper’s somber introspection for stubborn refusal, because he took hold of Dipper’s shoulders and looked at him, sadness in his eyes.

“My boy...think back. How many times did Bill appeal to your ego? Purposefully flatter you?”

Dipper thought back...and yes. There had been several times. Several specific instances where Bill had called him special, called him smart, said he was impressed, shot approving looks at him. All those times where Bill had held him and murmured in his ear, stroked his hair, kissed his neck...would Bill have done the same to Ford three decades ago, if he had had a body then?

And Bill had admitted it himself, hadn’t he? He didn’t love. Couldn’t. Then why all the tenderness? Why all the caring caresses, the gentle kisses?

Ultimately...Ford was right, and Dipper knew it. Bill had a history of playing each Pines family member like a violin, and he’d played Dipper perhaps best of all.

The crushing realization must have shown on his face, because Ford quickly pulled him into another warm hug.

“I’m so sorry, my boy...” he sighed, and Dipper could feel the man shaking his head, “but you’re not alone. We both know how this feels. We’ll get through it. Together.”

P I n e T r E E

Dipper winced against Bill’s voice. It hurt. Ford pulled away and he looked at the man, helpless.

“...what now…?”

“For now? We keep him locked up. How in the world did he get out in the first place? Did you free him…?”

“...yeah,” Dipper admitted, suddenly acutely aware of all the staring eyes of of the Bill idols on him. He looked down at his feet, “when I was keeping watch, the cult started harvesting him again. I didn’t know what was happening. I panicked, activated the runes on the Desk...it made things worse. He was screaming and crying and stuff was flying everywhere, I-I didn’t know what to do except...free him. And then he was so...helpless...”

“Dipper,” Ford put his hand underneath Dipper’s chin, lifting the boy’s head up, “Bill Cipher is never helpless.”

His words chilled Dipper to the bone, and he was instantly reminded of all the moments he had spent, alone, unprotected, with the demon.

The demon who couldn’t love, the demon who tricked him to get what he wanted.

P I n e T r E E

The voice was louder now, more insistent, and he tried hard not to listen.

“Come on...we’ve got to deal with this sooner or later,” Ford sighed and exited the room. Dipper followed glumly behind, desperately not wanting to face Bill.

How could he have been so blind?

When they got back to the other room, Soos and Wendy were gone. Stan and Mabel seemed to be bickering in the corner. Bill’s eyes were wide and questioning as he watched them enter, his brows arched.

He looked hopeful, and it made Dipper angry.

P I n e T r E E

“Grunkle Ford!” Mabel came up to him, hands clasped, beseeching, “Bill’s okay, really. I promise, he won’t be any trouble if we just let him go.”

“He’s not a pet, Mabel. And he’s done more damage than you know.”

Bill gave a stifled sound of protest, which ended with a quick yelp when Stan gave a good whack to his wounded shoulder. Mabel took the opportunity to renew her plea.

“We can’t just keep him locked up here, he hasn’t done anything wrong. He’s been--”

“Mabel. That’s enough.”

Both Mabel and Bill lifted their heads to stare at Dipper.

“...but--” Mabel started after a moment, and Dipper cut her off.

“He tricked us, Mabel. This was all an act. He doesn’t care about us...you said it yourself this morning in the museum. He doesn’t care. It’s all just to get what he wants. Isn’t that right, Bill?”

He glared down at the trapped figure, involuntarily quaking with anger and hurt. Bill stared back, shocked, then shook his head to and fro almost frantically, trying to speak through the tape.

P I n e T r E E

“No, Bill!” Dipper yelled, startling Mabel and Stan enough to make them jump. Only Ford seemed unsurprised at Dipper’s rage, “I know what you did! And I can’t believe I fell for it! Like an idiot! Well, I’m done. I’m not falling for your tricks anymore, none of us are.”

“Dipper…?” Mabel asked after a long silence.

“We’ll talk about it later, Mabel.”

“...okay,” she conceded, her confusion still apparent. She lowered her face, her hair in her eyes, and continued cautiously, “can we at least not use that weird...spell thingy on him? ...you guys said it like...power-rapes him or whatever, and you just...you can’t do it. Just...please…?”

Dipper glanced at Bill as the demon stared toward his sister. He looked pained but grateful, his eyes uncharacteristically soft. 

A great actor, Dipper thought bitterly. But he couldn’t help but agree with Mabel. He’d seen firsthand what sapping Bill’s power did to him, had seen a visual representation of the violation, heard the unending, inhuman wails.

“I’m with her. Bill probably deserves it, but...in good conscience, we just can’t let that happen...isn’t the table enough?”

“It may not be,” Ford replied, “that cult still knows the appropriate incantations to harness Bill’s power. If they decided to use it to cause some major disruption here, or tried to get Bill to break himself out...well, it probably wouldn’t be difficult.”

M Y p o w E R

a L L o F M E

Dipper closed his eyes against the intruding voice. It sounded sad. He didn’t want to hear it.

“So?” Mabel asked, “you’re saying we should use that spell just so the cult can’t?”

“I’m saying that we know a spell to activate Bill’s power so that he effectively traps himself. That’s what we were testing out when you two came back.”

“What does that mean?” Dipper asked, "trap himself?"

“Basically we would be using his own power against him. He’d be rendered totally inert, unable to move or speak...I don’t know if he would even be able to think. The thing to note is that as long as this spell is active, no one else would have access to him. The cult would be left powerless, as would Bill himself, ironically. Trapping Bill within himself is the safest move.”

Bill’s eye roved and his muscles tensed. He didn’t seem to be making any effort to hide his panic.

Dipper remembered Bill, his forehead pressed against Dipper’s, his ruined hands on Dipper’s cheeks. The slight but sad smile. The mismatched eyes, one cat-like, glowing, always searching. The other as dark and dangerous and unreachable as the deepest reaches of the sea.

“ _He’d use the spells,”_ Bill had said in a confident yet oddly subdued tone, his lips nearly brushing Dipper’s, _“he’d trap me with my own power.”_

It seemed he had been right. Wasn’t he usually? He had asked Bill if he was afraid.

Bill had never answered.

“I still don’t think we should do it,” Mabel insisted, searching Dipper’s face for at least some shred of support. He paused for a moment, then nodded in agreement. Both Stan and Ford looked at the twins for a long while, then at one another.

“We could see how it goes,” Stan shrugged, “at least until we figure out a more permanent solution.”

“I don’t like it,” Ford said, as if his crossed arms and scowl weren’t enough to illustrate that point, “...but fine. For now. But he stays down here, on the Desk, with the runes activated, and tape over his loud mouth. And...” he rifled through some nearby drawers and brought out a length of fabric. Bill squirmed as Ford approached him with it, but there wasn’t much he could do; Ford easily secured it around Bill’s head, essentially blindfolding him, “--this is just for extra security. I have reason to believe he is able to...hypnotize, for lack of a better word, with his eyes.”

Dipper’s heart sank even further. Not so long ago, Bill had ‘accidentally’ seduced him with the use of that strange black eye with its thick lashes and untold fathoms. Had he done the same with Ford?

They all four watched the figure on the table for a moment. It all seemed a little excessive, a little perverse. Bill was shackled, shut up, blinded. He couldn’t cause any harm. But what Ford said kept playing in Dipper’s mind.

‘ _Bill Cipher is never helpless.’_

“Come on, let’s...reconvene,” Ford nodded toward the doorway, “we have a lot to discuss.”

They filed one by one out of the room. Dipper gave one last glance back at Bill. The demon wasn’t struggling, was stock still except for the labored rise and fall of his chest.

But the unearthly voice in Dipper’s head echoed, over and over again.

P I n e T r E E

P I n e T r E E

P I n e T r E E


	15. One Way Ticket

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I return, this time with a SUPER LONG CHAPTER! Okay, maybe not super long. More like just slightly longer than average. Thank you all for your patience! Some of you have been sticking with this fic for the better part of a year, and that's pretty amazing! The story is slowly reaching its end, but I hope you all will enjoy the chapters that remain. Also, if any of you have any scenes in particular that you'd like to see illustrated (AKA poorly sketched out because I have no energy and a short attention span) let me know and I'll try to get some done and put up on my tumblr page (also hedgehogsquadgoals) if I have the time. I unfortunately cannot do the sexy scenes. I live with my boyfriend, and though he is respectful of my gay shipping tendencies, he does not yet know that I ship a boy and a triangle. Also, my studio doesn't have a door and that's a problem. Thank you for your continued support!

“Can’t we go ahead and find a way to release him from that body?” Mabel asked over her fifth cup of cocoa. The family had already spoken at length about their various misadventures throughout the weeks, and were now on the subject of what to do with the eons-old dream demon that was currently locked away in the basement, “send him back to the Mindscape or wherever? He’ll be too weak to cause any harm, we won’t have to keep watch over him, no one can take his power. We can just...let him go.”

“Not a chance,” Ford answered tiredly. He’d been pacing for a good fifty minutes straight, arms clasped behind his back, “we have him here bound. We have a method of controlling him. Otherwise he’ll eventually reform and go on to cause more havoc.”

“I dunno, Ford,” Stan grumbled as he poured another shot of tequila, “I like the girl’s idea. That creepy space demon is nothin’ but trouble, and we ain’t got much time left. I don’t wanna spend the rest of my years guarding his sorry ass. I say find out how to unbind him, get him outta here. Then he’ll be gone for good. Right?”

“We thought that before,” Dipper sighed, resting his head on his unburnt arm, “and he came back after only a few years.”

Bill’s voice had been in his head intermittently over the last few hours. Sometimes it was loud and clear, sometimes weak and distant. And sometimes, Dipper thought he might just be imagining it. Whatever the case, it had caused one hell of a headache.

“That was a special case though, right?” Mabel said, “it's that cult’s fault.”

“Maybe. But what if another cult comes along in 20 years? Or 10? Or 5?”

With Dipper’s statement, Ford paused in his pacing to stare out the window, stern and contemplative.

“It wouldn’t really matter if he came back five years from now or five thousand years from now,” he said, “there will always be people for him to manipulate and worlds for him to destroy. It may not necessarily even be our world. In my travels across the Multiverse, I came upon several dimensions where Bill had already unleashed chaos. Some, he had visited millions of years ago, their time, and they were still suffering the consequences of his madness. Keeping Bill bound like this forever...it wouldn’t just make us and our world safer, but possibly billions of others as well.”

“Oh, okay,” Stan rolled his eyes, “so I guess now the Pines are gonna have to be the Keepers of the Psycho Triangle. That’s not a responsibility I wanna pass on to anyone.”

“He’s in a human body, wouldn’t he just be dead in like 80 years anyway?” Mabel asked softly, prodding at a marshmallow. Her usual energy had been sapped by the day’s events, and she kept shooting furtive glances at Dipper. He couldn’t blame her, he guessed. He still hadn’t told her what had caused his sudden change in opinion, and it was something she deserved to know. Mabel, ever soft-hearted, had come to care for Bill too, after all. In a different way, perhaps, but in a way that was no less valid.

“Not necessarily. The body he’s in seems to heal quickly, except for those dagger wounds, for whatever reason. I doubt it will age now that he’s locked to it. We have an opportunity here, a great opportunity, to keep him from spreading chaos to any more dimensions. To keep him from destroying lives.”

“All right, so we can’t just kill him?” Stan grunted. Dipper saw Mabel’s hand curl tightly around her mug.

“I’m not sure what killing that body will do,” Ford countered, “the effects could be as disastrous as they are innumerable. He could dissipate, sure, simply die. Or his powers could be released in such a way that he might be free to roam around in our dimension like he was during Weirdmaggedon. The act of his essence being forcibly pulled from that body without the proper rituals could be catastrophic. It could cause an explosion, a rip in time and space, the sudden cessation of all life in the area, there’s no telling. I need to do more research.”

“Wouldn’t Bill have the answer?” Dipper asked.

P I n e T r E E

He winced.

“Probably not. As I’ve said before, I doubt this has ever happened to Bill, or he would know a quick and easy way out. He knows about as much as we do in this regard, I’m afraid.”

"And why would that asshole ever tell us the truth?” Stan asked.

“He’s been nice,” Mabel mumbled. She hid her face behind her cocoa mug, eyes downcast, “he’s a terrible monster, but I thought he was _our_ terrible monster.”

There was no response. They sat and stood in silence. Only the sound of Waddles snorting in his sleep broke the hush.

“Hey, I uh, I think Waddles has the right idea, you know?” Stan gave a little stretch, his back audibly popping, “it’s been a long day, for all of us. Why don’t we, you know, get some shut eye. Come back at this fresh in the morning.”

“I’m going to stay up for a while, watch Bill,” Ford answered, “keep an eye on him.”

“Little jerk’s locked up tighter than the gold in Fort Knox, Stanford. And I should know. Unrelated, if any of you are ever in Kentucky, don’t mention your last name is Pines.”

“More caution is never a bad thing, Stanley,” Ford said, “you kids get some sleep. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

He patted Dipper and Mabel on their heads and made his way to the basement. Stan watched him go, a sad, uneasy frown on his unshaven face. He turned to Dipper and Mabel, hesitating a moment before mimicking Ford, placing his hands on their heads and tousling their hair.

“I’m glad you two knuckleheads are all right. I uh...I don’t know what I’d do without you kids, and I know Ford feels the same way. If you guys need to talk...well, you know where to find me.”

Mabel bid him a wan smile and Dipper simply nodded. As Stan left, they themselves departed the kitchen, heading up the rickety old stairs. Dipper turned to the bathroom to brush his teeth, when Mabel caught his uninjured arm by the crook of his elbow.

“Dip...what happened back there? Down in the basement? What did Grunkle Ford say? Why’d you turn against Bill so fast?”

 Dipper sighed. He figured he’d have to tell her sooner or later. And so he did. He related the entirety of his conversation with Ford, told her about small incidents between him and Bill, things that indicated that perhaps Bill hadn’t been as forthcoming as they had thought. He ended with a sigh and a shrug.

“He was using us, Mabel. He wants out of that body more than anything, and he was pretending to be this...great guy who cared about us, so we’d help him get out. He was using us the same way he used Grunkle Ford.”

 Mabel gnawed on her bottom lip for a moment, contemplating.

 “...but...that’s not completely true, is it?” she finally asked in a voice so soft that Dipper had trouble hearing her.

 “Huh?”

“What he did to Grunkle Ford...the way he treated him, that was awful, I’m not saying it wasn’t...but he did that to get into this world, mess everything up, rule it, right? This time, with you...he was trying to get out. He was trying to escape being tormented, Dipper. It’s not the same.”

“But he’s still using the same tactics. He’s still a monster. A manipulator.”

“You don’t think he’s changed?”

“...you saw him in the museum, Mabel. You saw how mad he was...over something that wasn’t even my fault. Who knows what he was going to do to me. He might’ve been about to kill me, if you hadn’t come along...he hasn’t changed. He’s been playing us. It might not have been for an evil purpose, but he’s an evil….well...we don’t even know what he is, do we? Not really...”

“He’s got a temper. The museum thing was terrible, but it might have just been a fluke. And if he really has changed? What if he really does care about us? What if he cares about you?”

“That’s too many ‘what ifs’, Mabel. That kind of thinking is dangerous.”

“Did Grunkle Ford tell you that?”

Dipper opened his mouth to deny it, but slowly closed it again when he realized...yes, in fact, he had heard that from Ford. Several years ago, but it was a powerful statement, and he guessed it must have stuck with him.

“Yeah. Maybe. But it’s true, right?”

“Dipper,” Mabel sighed, “I love Grunkle Ford. Like, an insane amount. And I know you’ve always had this weird creepy obsession with him even before you knew he existed--”

“What’s creepy? It’s not creepy!”

“It’s totally creepy. My point is, he’s a great guy. He’s smart and he loves us and he’s great at barbecuing with lasers. But he’s got his own history with Bill that’s gonna cloud his judgment no matter what. I’m not saying he’s wrong to feel that way, considering what happened to him. And I hate to have to say this, but even if it was all just a trick, if Bill was just using us...is it really that bad? He just wants to be free.”

“Yeah well. You heard what Ford said about a free Bill.”

“Dipper--”

“Mabel, please. I’m tired… let’s just talk about it in the morning, okay? Or never again. Ever. That’d work too.”

 He brushed past her and headed into the attic bedroom, not daring to look back.

 She didn’t follow.

After he had settled into bed and was willing his headache to go away, he halfway hoped she’d come in, snuggle into the other twin bed that still stood on the other side of the room, tell him goodnight and that everything would be okay. As much as he wanted to be alone, a part of him wanted her near. He supposed a part of him always would. Instead, he just had a heavy heart, a pounding head, and the echoes of Bill’s voice in his mind.

 Sleep did not come easily.

* * *

 

The world was a miasma of shifting shapes, swirling like eddies in a tide, frothing and tumultuous. The ground shifted unsteadily beneath his feet, cracking, ready to give way. The wind howled with a million mighty voices, each converging above his head to boom thunderously into a single name.

PINE TREE

Dipper braced himself. He had foolishly forgotten about his and Bill’s sleeping connection, how slumber would not put an end, however temporary, to his problems. He expected Bill to appear before him, a tower, an angry god, red like blood with one furious black eye. Out for vengeance.

Though when Bill did pop into existence, he was much as he was usually; small and yellow and strange, though very obviously incensed.

“PINE TREE!” he swooped up to Dipper and jabbed a finger to his chest, his eye screwed up in anger, an unmistakable fury adding a sharp edge to his already grating voice, “what THE FUCK was that ALL ABOUT? You barely even TRIED to HELP ME!”

Dipper swatted away Bill’s hand, and the action seemed to make Bill even angrier. His eye flashed red and the pupil contracted to a slit.

“And why should I! How could I possibly want you free after what you’ve done?”

“We HAD a DEAL!” Bill shot back, still pointing an accusatory finger at him, “and YOU BROKE IT!”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Dipper asked, glaring. Bill’s eye flashed with something Dipper didn’t quite recognize on him; confusion? Hurt? After a beat, a beam of light shone from the demon’s eye, displaying before them a hologram which showed a familiar scene; the two of them in the bathroom of the Mystery Shack, Bill, very human and very naked, glowering at Dipper, who stood stock still with shaky, false confidence.

‘ _Let’s make a deal,”_ the Bill in the scene said, _“you keep on helping me, and keep your crazy uncles from locking me up again when they get back...and every now and then I’ll give you a new piece of info to fill that little noggin of yours.'_

Dipper watched until the scene ended with the two shaking hands. The blue light from Bill’s eye flickered and disappeared.

“RINGING any BELLS?” he spat, “we made a DEAL that YOU would keep those TWO LOONEY OLD BATS from LOCKING ME UP, in exchange for KNOWLEDGE. Well, I gave you your PRECIOUS KNOWLEDGE, but you did PRACTICALLY NOTHING to RELEASE ME! YOU went back on OUR DEAL!!”

Dipper found that, despite all his current emotions, he was mostly taken aback by Bill’s anger at having a deal broken. It vaguely occurred to him that deals were important to Bill; it was how he maintained his operations, how he acquired what he needed. How he gained power and broke hearts. But, ultimately, he couldn’t bring himself to care very much at the moment.

“Ford told me everything, Bill!” he hissed, “about how you made him fall in love with you. It was just extra incentive to get him to build that portal.”

Bill rolled his eye in the severe, exaggerated way only a being with one eye could.

“I KNEW Sixer was still SORE about THAT. It’s been MORE THAN THIRTY YEARS, you’d think he would have GOTTEN OVER IT by NOW.”

“You lied to him, you just let him go right on thinking you loved him, so you could reach your own selfish ends. Just like you were doing with me.”

Bill’s eye narrowed even further, and he gazed at the boy cautiously, pausing.

“I NEVER SAID I loved you,” he pointed out, his body pulsing bright with each word.

“That’s not the point! You didn’t have to say it! You were doing the same thing to me that you did to him. Making me like you, making me want to...want to be around you and help you...pretending you gave a damn about me.”

“KID! How OFTEN do I have to SPELL THIS OUT? I _DO_ LIKE YOU. I’ve said so from THE BEGINNING, haven’t I? I know YOU HUMANS have bad memories, but SHEESH.”

“How can I know that anything you’re saying is the truth?”

Bill made a noise as if about to protest, but cut it short. He floated in front in front of the boy, appraising him, scrutinizing.

“...I GUESS you CAN’T,” he finally admitted.

The silence between them seemed eons long. Dipper could hardly believe what he had heard. What’s more, for the first time since he’d met the demon, Bill seemed...unsure of himself. He floated listless in the void, eye downcast, one black finger half-heartedly tapping the flat yellow expanse above his bow tie.

“What? You’re not gonna...defend yourself? Say you’re not lying? That I can trust you? That you’ve changed?”

“SURE, I could say ALL OF THOSE THINGS. BUT YOU wouldn’t BELIEVE ME, so WHAT’S the POINT?”

“So you’ve given up?”

“HARDLY. But it seems like you’ve ALREADY MADE UP YOUR MIND. And WITHOUT YOU on my side, I’m essentially HELPLESS right now.”

“You’re never helpless.”

Bill’s pupil flicked over to look at Dipper and the demon gave a mirthless laugh.

“SIXER tell you THAT?”

“Well...yeah, but it’s true. You’ve always got some trick up your sleeve. Some horrible thing you’re planning.”

“My BAG OF TRICKS doesn’t include A KEY to THIS PARTICULAR LOCK, kid. BESIDES, what could you POSSIBLY KNOW about ME? What could Sixer POSSIBLY KNOW about ME? I’ve been HELPLESS BEFORE,” he turned his back on Dipper to look at the swirling miasma beyond them, the shapes draining and reforming, “I’ve been LOST BEFORE.”

Something in his tone hurt, and Dipper had to struggle to remind himself why they were having this conversation in the first place. But he couldn’t help but approach the demon, stand beside him, gaze alongside him at the turbulent skies of his own slumbering mind.

It reminded him of when they had stood on the roof of the Mystery Shack, hands linked, watching the swarm of Mothmen disappear into the night and lingering in the silvery dust that fell around them. It seemed like a long time past to Dipper. What did it feel like to Bill? A blip in time? Like mere moments ago? Was it even important enough for him to remember?

And suddenly they were there, back on the roof, the sky sprinkled with gleaming stars, the bone-white moon cutting through black clouds. Dipper’s lip curled.

“You’re trying to bring up good memories so I’ll agree to help you,” he said, his frown deepening as he shot a glare at Bill. The demon closed his eye and his body rocked a little; his version of shaking his head, Dipper guessed.

“Not ME,” he answered, “this is YOUR DOING. REMEMBER, I’m not the ONLY ONE who has POWER in the MINDSCAPE.”

Dipper couldn’t believe he had forgotten. Their first encounter with Bill, their journey into Grunkle Stan’s mind...of course. He had dominion here, just as much as Bill did. He could change things, warp them, come up with whatever he wanted...his unconscious mind must have wanted this. A simpler and sweeter moment during a summer of blood and confusion.

“So if I punched you, would it hurt?”

“So ROMANTIC,” Bill answered, voice dripping heavy with sarcasm, “it WOULD. And it WOULDN'T.”

For a minute, Dipper considered actually punching Bill. He deserved it a billion times over. But instead, he reached for the demon’s body, brushing his knuckles along the buzzing, cold surface. Bill looked at him, surprised.

“WHY are you TOUCHING ME? I kind of thought you HATED ME.”

“I do,” he answered, dipping his fingers into the crevices of Bill’s body. It made his fingertips feel numb, “but I don’t. You did a good job of tricking me into liking you.”

Bill's eye watched Dipper's fingertips for a moment before turning its gaze to the boy's face. He sighed, and with the sigh his body glowed again and the hum of energy increased.

“KID. I WASN’T TRYING to TRICK YOU into LIKING ME. You did THAT all on YOUR OWN. I just HAPPEN to be INCREDIBLY CHARMING.”

“No, you’re incredibly annoying,” Dipper corrected. And then, without even really meaning to, he asked, “Do you love me?”

Bill’s uncharacteristically shocked expression would have been amusing if Dipper hadn’t been so embarrassed. He could feel himself turning bright red, willed himself to stop. But even in the Mindscape he couldn’t control his blush. Bill hovered in front of him for a moment, watching him from the side of his eye. It was a wary, appraising look. The gears in whatever could be considered Bill’s brain were moving, and Dipper could tell where this was going. He would say yes, he had feelings for Dipper. He’d profess his undying love, say they could be together if only Bill could be free...he’d play the game with Dipper, just as he had with Ford. The only question was what Dipper would do with the lie.

“...no,” Bill finally said.

Dipper was not prepared for that answer.

“No?” he asked, incredulous.

“Don’t FLATTER YOURSELF, KID.”

“I wasn’t—I just thought that...I don’t know, that--”

“I would try the SAME THING WITH YOU that I tried with SIXER. I’ve been TELLING YOU all ALONG, that’s NOT THE CASE.”

“So if you don’t have feelings for me and you’re not trying to trick me...why? Why did you do all the things you did?”

“I TOLD YOU, KID, I LIKE YOU. You don’t LISTEN. Besides...” Bill trailed off. His body shimmered and began breaking apart, and Dipper nearly panicked before he realized that the bricks were multiplying, rearranging, until Bill had restructured and rebuilt himself. His body, the human visage he’d been trapped in, floated inches off the ground before him, nearly exactly the way it was in the waking world. Minus, Dipper noted, the binding marks.

“A BEING of PURE ENERGY can’t EXPERIENCE LOVE,” he said, and Dipper noticed that despite the human appearance, his voice was still unearthly, echoing, “at least NOT in the sense that YOU HUMANS DO. But a BEING of PURE ENERGY STUCK in a HUMAN BODY...” he shrugged his angular shoulders and looked at Dipper with mismatched eyes, “the CHEMICALS are THERE.”

And Dipper suddenly remembered his last jaunt through the Mindscape, traveling the formless plains with the howl of Bill’s voice on the wind, and one of the sentences he had been able to make out;

‘ _DOPAMINE, NOREPINEPHRINE, SEROTONIN. DO NOT let them FOOL YOU.’_

The chemical makeup of love.

Either the realization on his face was obvious, or Bill was able to read his thoughts. Maybe a little of both. Either way, the demon crossed his arms and looked visibly annoyed.

“Don’t get TOO EXCITED, we’re not getting MARRIED or ANYTHING. BESIDES, YOU know as well as I DO that MARRIAGE is just an EXCUSE for your GOVERNMENT to get INVOLVED IN YOUR PERSONAL AFFAIRS--”

“So you do care about me! You weren’t trying to trick me?” Dipper interrupted. Bill rolled his eye.

“THAT’S what I’ve been TRYING TO TELL YOU, YES. Why don’t you SAY IT loud enough for the WHOLE MULTIVERSE to HEAR?”

“I...I don’t know what to say...I’m sorry, Bill...I just...Ford...”

“HATES me. And LOVES you. That’s a BAD COMBINATION, in THIS CASE. NORMALLY I wouldn’t GIVE A SHIT what SIXER THINKS about ME. BUT he’s going a LITTLE OVERBOARD, don’t YOU THINK?”

“I...” Dipper hesitated, then gave a small nod, “yeah...yeah, he is….but he’s afraid, Bill. He’s afraid of you and what you can do...what you will do, I guess...I mean, is he right? If you get freed and things go back to normal, are you just going to keep causing mayhem and chaos wherever you go? Are you going to ruin people’s lives like you did his?”

“SIXER made his OWN BED,” he said with another little shrug, not seeming too terribly interested in the conversation, “you HUMANS are SO QUICK TO assign a CERTAIN THING or CERTAIN PERSON to RUINING something. When in REALITY, it’s usually a CHAIN REACTION. A BUILDUP. I was SUPPOSED TO BE the end of SIXER’S CHAIN. It DIDN’T WORK OUT THAT WAY, and he’s FOUND SEVERAL MORE LINKS since THEN. His life DOESN’T SEEM that RUINED to ME.”

“You’re avoiding the question,” Dipper asserted, making a concentrated effort to be stern. This seemed to simply amuse Bill, who smirked and stroked Dipper’s cheek. His hand was cool, thrumming with energy.

“I’LL GO where I GO and I’LL DO WHAT I DO.”

"So you’re gonna still try and become ruler of the universe or something?” he pushed Bill’s hand away, but the demon looked nonplussed.

“I’ll DO what I’VE ALWAYS DONE. I’ll FIND A PLACE I BELONG.”

Dipper began to open his mouth, to ask what that meant, to ask where a demon was supposed to belong in the first place, but Bill put a finger to his mouth and leaned in close to him. He looked luminous, shining like pure gold under hard light.

“Shhh, Pine Tree...NOT all SECRETS are MEANT to be SHARED. SO,” he pulled back, still hovering off the ground, his arms spread wide, “will you fulfill YOUR END of the BARGAIN? Will you HELP ME?”

“...I already helped you once. I slept with you and you almost killed me the next morning. Not to mention this,” he lifted his right arm, gesturing to the burns, like branches, etched into the skin. Bill leaned forward fluidly, took hold of Dipper’s hand and kissed it with cold lips.

“You ENJOYED IT. You’ll NEVER HAVE another NIGHT LIKE THAT as LONG AS YOU LIVE. UNLESS it’s with ME again, of course.”

Dipper scoffed and made to pull his arm back, but Bill held his wrist steadfast, tugging Dipper against him. Suddenly his feet were off the roof and they were floating, suspended through the dark Mindscape sky with its black conifers below and the white stars above.

“I ADMIT, I kinda LOST IT back at the MUSEUM. I was SURE it would WORK. I was ALMOST FREE...” he trailed off before looking back at Dipper, brushing his hair aside. Dipper couldn’t help but notice that Bill’s version of his human self still retained the stigmata he seemed to be so proud of, “I WASN’T going to HURT YOU.”

“Yeah well,” he shifted uncomfortably in Bill’s grasp and averted his gaze to the receding rooftop, “from where I was sitting, it definitely looked like you were about to murder me.”

“And RISK facing SHOOTING STAR’S FULL WRATH? I'd have to be even CRAZIER than I ALREADY AM."

“...if I free you, Ford’s not gonna let you just hang out at the Shack like we did. What’s your plan?”

“I’m going to CONFRONT the cult DIRECTLY. That was MY PLAN after the RITUAL FAILED, BUT...I wanted to MAKE SURE you were OKAY FIRST. UGH. See what CARING ABOUT people GETS YOU? A ONE WAY TICKET to being STRAPPED to a TABLE and TORTURED FOR ALL ETERNITY.”

Dipper was about to respond when the world around them groaned like an old house and the air began to shimmer.

“What’s happening?” he asked, nearly reverting to his default state of panic. Bill’s form began to flicker, and Dipper could see his own limbs turning transparent.

“You’re WAKING UP,” Bill said, but his voice sounded distant and unreal, “HELP me, PINE TREE. You’re my ONLY HOPE.”

They fell away from each other, and through the blinding light of a dark world disappearing, Dipper could see Bill cup his hands to his mouth and yell, his normally all-encompassing voice dim among the Mindscape’s rapid dissipation. 

“That’s a STAR WARS reference!”

* * *

 

He woke with a start, sitting straight up in bed before curling in on himself with a small groan. His body hurt all over. It was darker in the room than it usually was in the mornings, but he could hear the distant thunder outside and see the rolling clouds through the patterned glass window.

Coming back to the waking world from the Mindscape was never an overly enjoyable experience, no matter what the situation. The abruptness of the transition between the mind to physical reality was was a strain, always a shock. Much more so now with all the information Dipper had to process.

He had more questions now than ever before. Had Bill been telling the truth the whole time? Were he, and Ford, mistaken in their conclusion? It certainly seemed like he had been wrong. He’d been wrong a lot before, and, if he was going to be honest, so had Ford.

But he didn’t know what to do. He didn’t know who to trust. He was wrapped up in a tangle of confusion and emotions and knew there was no logical, surefire way to untangle himself enough to make an informed decision.

It had been the same way years back, when he had nearly destroyed Stan’s three decades worth of hard work on the portal, nearly eradicated Stan’s only chance to see his brother again, and Ford’s only chance to get back home. If he had gone with what he felt was right then, had shut the whole thing down...how different would things be now? How much more miserable, how much more hopeless?

But as he glanced over to the other side of the room to gaze at the empty bed, an idea struck.

Mabel was the one who made the right decision regarding Stan and the portal. Mabel had always been the one to guide him true, no matter the circumstance. She was weird and flighty and had the shortest attention span of any human being he had ever met, but she always led him right in the end.

He needed her help.

* * *

 

“Mabel. We’ve gotta talk. Do you have a minute?”

She paused from pouring food into Waddles' bowl, looking up at her brother with pursed lips and wary eyes.

“Is this about the lollipops we got from the hospital? Okay, so I ate them all, but it’s not like you wanted them in the first place!”

“It’s not about the—wait, you ate all ten lollipops? In one night? You couldn’t have saved me just o—okay, you know what, it doesn’t matter. That doesn’t matter. That’s not what I want to talk about.”

“Is it Bill?” she asked in a slightly more subdued tone. Dipper sighed and leaned against the wall. He undid the safety pin holding the bandages on his arm together, starting to unwrap them.

“Yeah...I need your advice...”

“But last night you said you didn’t want to talk about this again, ever. You said that.”

“I know,” Dipper huffed, “but--”

“It’s okay, Dip,” she stood and placed a hand on his uninjured shoulder, nodding her head solemnly, “I’ll ignore the stupid things you said and help you out. That’s what the Alpha Twin does.”

“Wow, okay,” he rolled his eyes, winding the spent bandages around his hand to collect them. Underneath, the branch-like burns on his arm stood out red and distinct against summer-tan skin, “here’s the thing. I...might’ve acted too quickly. When Ford told me what Bill had done to him, I kinda...I might have...”

“Freaked out?”

“...yeah, freaked out. Definitely. But Bill and I talked last night, you know, Mindscape, and he...I don’t know...he seems sincere. And he seems afraid. And the last time I didn’t help him...”

“That’s what led up to this,” she finished for him. With a little nod, he succeeded in unwrapping his arm, balling up the bandages and tossing them into the trash can. Mabel couldn’t seem to hide her smirk, “so once again, good ole Mabel has to be the moral compass of the Pines family, huh? All right, bro bro, I’ll solve another emotional crisis for you. All in a day’s work.”

“On second thought--”

“No no, you need me! I’m like your lighthouse. A beacon in the darkness, guiding the ship of your mind safely to the shores of good decisions--”

“Mabel...”

“Okay, right, focus. What kind of stuff did Bill say?”

“That he...you know...he does care about me. As much as something like him is able to, I guess. He apologized for what happened at the museum...maybe it’s all a trick. It’s Bill, after all. Mabel, you’ve always been a better judge than I have. You’ve always known what to do. What do you think…?”

She twirled a strand of her hair around one finger, looking out the window in contemplation for a while before looking back at him. She glanced at his leg, still injured from the Wendigo attack, studied the burned figures on his arm, before flicking her eyes up to the bruise on his head, peeking out below his hairline. She looked at each of his injuries, uncharacteristically somber, appraising, silent. When she finally answered, her voice was soft.

“I think he’s telling the truth. I think we should get him out of here and help get him out of that body.”

“And what about what Grunkle Ford said? What if Bill just goes off to cause havoc somewhere else? He almost killed us.”

“I’m over it,” she waved a hand dismissively, “and I dunno Dipper….but I’m not cool with just sitting back while he gets tortured, just because of the possibility--”

“The very good possibility.”

“--that he’ll keep on being a nutso space dictator when he’s free.”

They stood in silence for a moment, looking at one another. Dipper sighed.

“I need to help him.”

"I wholeheartedly agree, bro bro! So! We'll break him out, find that cult, and free him from that body! Piece of cake! Strawberry cake. With glitter frosting."

"Wait wait wait, we?”

“Come on, Dipper, whenever you go somewhere alone with Bill, you always come back banged up. Not banged, banged up. Those two things are different,” she continued despite Dipper’s embarrassed groan, “and he usually doesn’t fare much better. You two obviously need someone to protect you. That’s me! Besides, remember what he said? We have a reputation! Monsters are scared of us! That cult is scared of us! We can use that to our advantage. Between the three of us, we can take them down."

“Fine, but getting him out of here isn’t going to be easy. Grunkle Ford is on high alert now and there’s no way Stan is going to help. It’s gonna have to be just us.”

“That’s okay,” Mabel said, and there was something in her sly grin that made Dipper think that she and Bill may have shared the same spirit for mischief, “I’ve got a plan.”


End file.
